


Half Awake and Almost Dead

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Arguing, BAMF Stiles, Blood and Injury, Coma, First Kiss, Head Injury, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Stiles-centric, different ending, nematon, post s3a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after the night of the lunar eclipse Beacon Hills is a different place. The pack is well established and off at college. Supernatural-related incidents are at an all time low. And Stiles Stilinski has just come out of a coma. Deaton was right: the night of the eclipse the pack's sacrifice caused a darkness that would stay with them forever. Something (or someone) is stalking Stiles for reasons neither he nor a newly-returned Derek Hale understand But with Stiles' mother within reach in his dreams, a growing power no one can figure out and a nematon waiting for another showdown Stiles is pretty sure he's in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Awake and Almost Dead

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the LJ bigbang challenge comm teenwolf_bb: http://teenwolf-bb.livejournal.com
> 
> The artwork was done by the lovely rei17 and can be found here: http://mile-zero.livejournal.com/4420.html.
> 
> This fic was a struggle. I had the idea for quite a while and ran with it for this challenge. It's been so long since I did a big bang or anything more than 10,000 words that I was really scared I wouldn't finish. But I did and I'm proud of it and my accomplishment.
> 
> Whew! What a relief!
> 
> It's definitely more of a Stiles-centric fic, with Sterek in the background. The whole time I was imagining how this fic would go Stiles was always at the forefront so I hope I did him justice.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

The last thing on Stiles’ mind--the _only_ thing on Stiles mind-- was his Dad. A constantly running litany of _“Dad Dad Dad, got to find Dad.”_

It felt like there was a weight on his chest. It pushed him down every time he tried to take a breath deep enough to actually get air and feel like he could keep going, that he wasn’t going to spontaneously combust right then and there. That he would be on time and everything would be okay.

But he didn’t think about any of that, he couldn’t. All he could think about was his Dad. 

His only thought.

Probably should have been “tree”.

*****************

“-long’s it been?”

“Three days.”

“Is he-”

“Vitals are good.”

“What does mean?”

“We don’t kn...”

*****************

“-think he’d want his hair buzzed?”

“Dunno. Not like he’s got much say in the decision.”

“Was that a fucking joke? Fuck you, Isaac!”

_Muffled slam._

“Whoops.”

*****************

“Hey, buddy. Just came by to let you know we won the semis! We’re headed to state next. Coach won’t admit it but he misses you.”

_Silence_.

“Okay, he doesn’t _miss_ you, so much, as he’s taking out a lot more on Greenburg. So... good job?”

*****************

“Have you had dinner?”

“I had a sandwich out of the vending machine at work.”

“John...”

“I’m fine, Mel.”

“Come on, I’ll scrounge something up for you from the kitchen. They can never say no to y...”

*****************

_He was dreaming. Had to be. There was no other way to explain it._

_Right?_

_He moved through the grey mist easily, even though he had no idea where he was or where he was going. He could trip or run into something at any moment but he wasn’t worried._

_It was kind of peaceful._

_In a creepy way._

_“Nothing I’m not already used to,” he muttered to himself, both aloud and in his head. Or in his head but it echoed aloud. Or ..._

_Yeah, creepy._

*****************

“What’s up with this one?”  
 “Car accident, six months back.”

“Shitty.”

“Guess we’ve got him for the long haul now.”

“Hope he’s a good conversationalist.”

_Laughter_.

*****************

_Rustling._

_Silence._

_Light footsteps._

_Settling._

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Silence._

“I... Hmm.”

_Silence._

“I thought this would be easier. You can’t cut me off for once or be sarcastic.”

_Silence._

“I’m sorry, okay?”

_Silence._

“And I miss you.”

_Silence._

“Bet you never thought you’d hear me say that.”

_Silence._

“It’s harder to do this without you snarking at me, actually. Bet you never thought you’d hear me s-”

_Pause._

_Rustling._

_Silence._

_Door opening._

“Jeanie, what are you doing?”

“Thought I heard something in here.”

“In _there_? Girl, you be trippin’. Nothin’ in there making any noise and won’t be unless a miracle happens.”

_Door closing._

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Silence._

*****************

“-early acceptance to MIT. I posted about it on Facebook and Jackson immediately started talking about about maybe looking at Harvard. I know I’m irreplaceable but desperation is very unbecoming on him.”

_Silence_.

“You know, just because you’re in a coma doesn’t mean your nails can’t look nice.”

_Silence_.

“Stiles, you need to wake up now, do you hear m...”

*****************

_He was in head-to-toe white. Never a good idea when it came to his wardrobe. If it wasn’t chocolate milk straight from the carton spilling down his front it was grass stains or blood—red, black or anywhere in between—so he generally avoided it._

_The mist that surrounded him was clearing a little, but it didn’t help him figure out where he was. It was just an endless white expanse of nothing. No light. No darkness. Nothing._

_“Maybe I’m in a sensory depravation tank,” he mused, again in his head and aloud. “And I’m hallucinating. And I’m picturing... uh... “_

_He looked around._

_“This is some Harry Potter shit, I swear.”_

_“Language, Wawrzyniec. Language.”_

_He turned slowly and watched her approach him, as if forming from the tendrils of mist that swirled away as she walked._

_How long had it been? Too long. She had knowing in her eyes and a calmness in her heart._

_She was beautiful._

_“Mom.”_

*****************

“-it’ll be good though, you know? I’m not going _that_ far away and Isaac has a car now. Dad’s not taking it too well, talking about moving the home base of the business to the city with me. I convinced him not to, because he’s needed around here, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

_Rustling_

“I brought some new flowers, something to brighten up the room since it’s so nice outside but uh, not so much in here? I guess you don’t know that. It’s very... beige.”

_Silence_.

“Gotta go, first shift at my summer job. Dad pulled some str...”

*****************

“-remembered what you said about wanting to see that new superhero show on TV. I’m PVR-ing it for you.”

_Sigh_.

“Just... wake up before it eats all the space, okay?”

*****************

“-this one is... socks! You’re cleaning up in the hosiery department, buddy!”

“What’s that pattern?”

“I dunno, Lydia bought them. She probably bought him designer socks.”

“Nothing but the best.”

“She wanted to stop by, Stiles, but her mom took her to Aspen for the holidays. Something about the last holiday she’ll have with her little girl. Same with Allison. Not to Aspen, somewhere with the non-crazy people in her family.”

“Scott!”

“It’s true, Mrs. McCall. Some of them aren’t crazy.”

“You two, I swear. Stiles doesn’t need to hear about that. Let’s keep opening his gifts.”

“This one’s from your Dad! Let’s see what he pi...”

*****************

_”You’re the only one who knows how to pronounce it right,” he said with a smile when she finally reached him._

_She smiled back and reached a hand out to ghost over his cheek, not actually making contact. He ached to push himself into her arms and feel the warmth wrapped around him because he felt a creeping cold, threatening to seep into his bones._

_But he somehow knew he couldn’t and didn’t._

_“Your father never did quite get the hang of it.”_

_“And now it’s just too hard.”_

_“I’m sorry, my love. I tried.”_

_“I know. I’m not angry.”_

_She cocked her head so her long chestnut coloured hair swung over her shoulder. “What are you, then?”_

_He opened his mouth to reply but then wasn’t sure what to say. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”_

_“You know you have to find out soon?”_

_“Why, though? I’m in no hurry,” he shrugged and opened his arms wide, as if to show the lack of anything around._

_“You’ll soon change your tune, Wawrzyniec. I don’t want you to be caught off guard when that time comes. “_

_“Can’t I just be me?”_

_“You don’t yet know the full extent of who you are, my love. But it’s coming.”_

_The way she said that. ‘It’s coming.’_

_‘It’._

_“What’s coming?”_

*****************

“-think you’d like the new chemistry teacher. She’s not a demon, possessed or overcome with an all-consuming need to kill anyone, I don’t think. Guess that’s a win! Although Derek’s not around for her to bang, so...”

*****************

“-page in the yearbook, dude! Lydia was pissed, said you weren’t _dead_ so it’s stupid to put something so insipidly gushing in there, but I think she’s just pissed your one photo is going to upstage her or something.”

“Scott!”

“I say it with love, Ally!”

_Pause._

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“She did fight to get a good photo of you put in, though. Instead of that photo from last year I know you hated. So it’s not all b...”

*****************

“-amazing how quiet it is in Beacon Hills right now, or at least easy to pin point if the cause of mischief is human or, well, not now. Isaac’s been a good liaison between the pack and department, I have to say. I had some concerns but Scott insisted it be him. Your friend’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

_Silence._

“Huh. I never thought I’d say that about one of your friends, son.”

_Door opens._

“Ready to go?”

“Just finishing up. Melissa’s here to take me home, son. Don’t worry, she’s cooking me something healthy for supper.”

“Uh, no, tonight’s _your_ night to cook healthy.”

“Shit. Pizza sauce has tomatoes in it?”

“Don’t worry, Stiles, I’ve got him trained better than that!”

“If only he knew how true that is.”

“Oh, I think he...”

*****************

“-a’s already left. She said she stopped by last week, though. Jackson’s in Boston, from what I hear, but Lydia’s pretty determined to set him straight right away. She’s there to school the academic community, not the other way around, and nothing is going to stand in her way--’ _especially_ Jackson Whittemore!’ And that’s a direct quote, by the way.”

“We’ve heard it enough times.”

“I think she figured if she said it enough times she’d finally believe it herself.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“You don’t still like her, do you, Isaac?”

“Nah. Things changed. But, y’know.”

“I think there was something maybe between her and Stiles before... well.”

“Yeah?”

“Deaton paired them up when we went under, remember? I never asked about it and it never seemed important. And Lydia never said anything.”

“Maybe it was too hard.”

“Maybe. We could just ask if sleeping beauty here wasn’t st...”

*****************

_The mist was almost gone and they were sitting on a stone bench. He looked down and noticed his white clothing was getting dirty._

_“I said so,” he complained, scuffing at the marks on his shoes._

_“Do you feel it yet?”_

_“Feel what?” he asked, distracted as he continued to brush at the dirt._

_“Wawrzyniec!” her voice was sharp and she made a motion as if to grab his arm but pulled back at the last second. “You must pay attention. Soon everyone will know your name.”_

_“Yeah? Will they be able to **say** it?”_

_“Do you drive your father crazy this way?”_

_“All the time,” he said with a grin, that faded quickly. “I miss him.”_

_“And he you, I’m sure.”_

_“When can I see him again?”_

_“When it’s time.”_

_“When will it be time?”_

_“When you feel it.”_

_He let out a frustrated groan._

*****************

“-this time?”

“A new mix of herbs. I found some new books, had some ingredients sent to me from friends in Europe.”

“Guess it can’t hurt?”

“Not right now.”

_Silence_.

“You’re cryptic as shit, you know that?”

_A chuckle._

“As your son mentioned a number of times, Sheriff.”

“How’s Marin?”

“Enjoying her time on the east coast, from what I understand.”

“Has she found... um, is she joined with- well, another pack? As their, er--”

“Emissary?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I’m not sure what her intentions are but right now she’s trying to find her way. What way that is, I don’t know.”

_A pause._

“Right.”

“All right, this should do for n...”

*****************

“-sends his love. He wants to come home for a weekend before Thanksgiving but I don’t know if he’ll be able to. The vet course is more intense than he realized. He’s doing okay, he just doesn’t want to get behind. Isaac’s doing well in his business course, too!”

_A sigh._

“Sorry, Stiles. I’m just not as exciting as the boys, I guess. I could tell you about the tweaker I had to strap to the bed last night in the ER! Well, that’s about it. I had to strap a tweaker to a bed in the ER. Then he vomited on my shoes and I ate a soggy sandwich for my dinner. I’m pretty sure your dad snuck some fr...”

*****************

_”Where did the light go?”_

_The mist was gone, leaving a grey nothingness all around them._

_The bench had disappeared so they were standing together, huddled but not touching._

_He felt gritty and tired, clothes now showing no signs of their original pristine white. He felt lost and he was **freezing**._

_“I wish we had more time,” she said sadly._

_“Why? What’s going to happen?”_

_“I don’t know, but you have to be ready.”_

_“Ready for what? I don’t know what’s going on! I can’t tell how much time has passed or hasn’t passed. I...”_

_He looked down at himself, stared at the dirt caked under his fingernails and toed at the layer of dirt on the ground._

_“Am I dead?” he asked in a small voice._

_“Oh, kochanie, no! You’re only just beginning! You’ll find your way but beware.”_

_“Beware of what?” he cried. A wind was picking up around them, blowing the dirt around and making it even colder. He wrapped his arms around himself to try to keep warm._

_“You aren’t dead and you won’t be if you fight,” she said fiercely, stepping closer to him. “You’ve got to know who you can trust. **I** know you know but you’ve got to believe it. It will be hard and I’m sorry I won’t be there to protect you.”_

_“Protect me from what? What’s happening? Where are we? Mom! What’s going on?” He had to yell to be heard over the howling wind that surrounded them, enfolded them in their own personal twister._

_The darkness was coming, blacking out the grey and getting in his eyes. He closed them but lost his balance and stumbled forward._

_A pair of solid, warm arms wrapped around him._

_He opened his eyes quickly and looked up into calm, bright amber eyes._

_“Stiles,” she whispered. “I love you.”_

_“Mom,” Stiles choked out and then-_

*****************

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Squeaky shoes._

_Silence._

_Bright light, warmth._

_Silence._

_Shadows._

_Squeaky shoes._

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Too bright, warm, sweat._

_Silence._

_Itchy._

_Loud breathing._

_Raspy._

_Warm and bright and heavy breathing._

_A bird on the windowsill._

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Darkness._

*****************

_”Mom?” Stiles called out._

_He was in the woods and it was night. Maybe the preserve but Stiles couldn’t see any identifying markers. Well, **that** tree could be familiar but it looked so much like that **other** tree..._

_“Mom, where are you?”_

_He stumbled through the woods by instinct, kicking up dead leaves in his wake. He wasn’t quiet with his footsteps, uncaring if anyone heard him. Maybe his mother would._

_His plaid shirt, his favourite blue one, flapped behind him and caught here and there on the odd small branch that stuck out. His sneakers would need to be scrubbed to get all the mud off them but whatever, they were just sneakers._

_He could smell everything around him. It smelled fresh like the forest always did at night. He could smell the decaying underbrush and the earth he was uncovering with his foot falls. He could smell the crisp air all around him and even a faint whiff of woodsmoke._

_He followed whatever path his legs took him in, unsure of how long he’d been walking. The moon was bright overhead, revealing his path to an extent but the heavy canopy of trees obscured direct light._

_Stiles stumbled into a dusty, barren clearing and at once everything was very familiar._

_And very terrifying._

_“Shit,” he breathed._

_The nematon stood, intact and undisturbed._

_Stiles looked around and waited for..._

_What?  
 What was he waiting for?_

_Where was he, exactly?_

_**Why was he here?** _

_He stepped closer to it, circling it warily, as if it could physically reach out and grab him._

_“Mama didn’t raise no fool,” he whispered to himself._

_**Snap.** _

_A twig cracked in the same woods Stiles just stumbled out of and he crouched down immediately, out of habit and experience._

_He waited._

_And waited._

_And waited._

_And so did whatever followed Stiles to the nematon._

_He knew because he could hear it laughing at him from the trees._

_“Where are you, mom?” he whispered._

_It laughed louder._

*****************

“-back tomorrow, Stiles. Might be a bit late because Johnson’s wife is set to give birth any day now. ”

“Okay, Stiles! Have a good night! I’ll try to come with your dad tomorrow, too.”

_Kiss on forehead._

_Rustling._

_Door opening._

“Don’t forget your sweater, Melissa.”

“Shoot, thanks John.”

_Woman walks around the bed, picks up sweater._

_Glances over._

_Drops sweater._

“Stiles!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Stiles, sweetheart, can you hear me? Stiles?”

“Stiles, oh god! Stiles! You’re awake!”

_Drowsy blinking._

_Beeping._

_Rustling._

_Fingers tighten around hand._

_Squeeze back._

_Darkness._

_Silence._

*****************

_He wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait._

_He was exhausted. It felt like he’d been on guard for days now. The sun may have risen and fallen for weeks and he wouldn’t know it because he had no idea what day it was, what time it was._

_The only thing that was constant was the terror._

_It was waiting him out. Waiting for him to give in or give up or maybe even die._

_He stopped calling for his mother. He didn’t want her to get hurt because of him, no more than she already had suffered._

_(He knew she was gone and wasn’t coming back and that’s really why he didn’t call out for her but after all this time and feeling her arms around him again he didn’t want to go through that again. Not now.)_

_Someone had to be looking for him, right? His dad or Scott or, hell, even Derek. They would know to check out here, right? After... after..._

_Why was he here?_

_What was the **nematon**._

_It felt like waking up. He slowly started to think about what he was doing. About the white room and how he got so cold and his mom was there. His mom who was so mysterious and cryptic and wouldn’t touch him. She wouldn’t run her fingers through his hair like she used to or hug him close with one arm while she stirred something at the stove or sorted through the mail._

_Where was he?_

_“What the fuck is going on?” he asked himself._

_A harsh voice answered. “Thought you’d never ask.”_

_Stiles felt something heavy land on his back, claws in his shoulders and hot breath on his neck. It was dark and oppressive on top of him, forcing him to the ground and his face in the dirt._

_It covered him, threatened to envelope him._

_Stiles screamed._

*****************

“Stiles.”

_Hand squeeze._

“Stiles, it’s time to open your eyes.”

_So tired, too bright._

_Hard._

“It’s okay, son. Melissa and I are both here with the doctor.”

_Dad._

_**Dad**._

“He’s responding to stimuli, it shouldn’t be long.”

“Not to be a pain but how long is that?”

“Sheriff.”

“Right, sorry.”

“You and your son are so much alike.”

“Yes, dear.”

_Shuffling, mumbling, hand squeezes._

_Time passes._

_So confused._

“Want some coffee?”

“I was just thinking that but I think I’ll go grab it, hmm? It seems that a watched son doesn’t wake up from a coma.”

“Patience, John.”

“I know, Melissa. I just feel like I’ve been patient enough for the past two years, you know?”

“I understand. Now go get that coffee. I’ll watch.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

_Rustling._

_Movement._

_Door opening._

_No, Dad. No. Don’t leave me._

_Don’t go, I’m scared._

_No._

_**No!** _

Stiles sat up straight in bed, screaming.

*****************

_The dark thing on his back disappeared, dragged backwards away from him as if chained to the back of a speeding vehicle.  
At the same time Stiles felt himself jerked the opposite way and everything became a blur._

_“Oh god, I’m gonna ba-”_

*****************

“-rf.”

“Stiles! Stiles, calm down, lay back! John! Get a nurse!”

Stiles saw a glimpse of his father, pale-faced and frozen in the doorway he just left out of, then he was gone and Stiles could hear his quick footfalls fading down the hallway.

Melissa pushed him back against the pillows and gently held him down while Stiles clutched at her arms, fingers digging weakly into her skin. She just whispered to him quietly and let him grasp at her.

A doctor and two nurses bustled into the room, grim-faced despite the obviously happy occasion this was for Melissa and his dad. They poked and prodded at him, shining lights in his eyes and taking readings. He tried to speak, to reach out to his father to ground himself but one of the nurses told him he should relax and not overexert himself, that he was too weak to struggle.

John stepped forward to hold his hand and Stiles slumped back on his pillow, exhausted.

“Well, Stiles. Looks like you’re back with us. How do you feel?” the doctor finally addressed him directly, in a gentle tone.

Stiles’ eyes scanned across everyone in the room with him before settling on his dad, whose eyes were shining with tears.

Stiles opened his mouth to speak but found his throat dry and rough. He coughed a bit as his eyes started to drift closed again.

“Stiles!” John exclaimed, alarmed, but the doctor held his hand out.

“It’s okay, this is normal. He’s going to be drifting in and out of consciousness and will probably be confused for a while going forward.”

Stiles licked his lips and tried again. “Dad,” he whispered. John dropped into the chair beside the bed and leaned in close.

“I’m right here, son.”

“Mom.”

John smiled tightly and squeezed his hand. “Stiles, son. I’m sorry but-”

Stiles shook his head as much as he could, which wasn’t, and gripped his dad’s hand back as tightly as his disused muscles would allow. 

“I saw her, dad. I _saw_ her,” he choked out. 

The last thing he remembered before passing out again was his dad’s face draining of colour.

*****************

Days passed.

Stiles thought so, anyway.

He faded in and out, losing time without realizing it. He judged his time based on what people were wearing, that he could remember.

He slowly learned the names of the doctors and nurses who tended to him. Lainey was probably his favourite because she actually _talked_ to him when she was there and he was lucid. Everyone else either wore a fake smile and pretended not to hear him or was brusque and busy when they checked his vitals.

No one would tell him what he really wanted to know, though. 

His dad and Melissa exchanged a glance across his bed every time he brought up that night. He was patient at first and understood that there was a lot going on. The doctors hadn’t even started talking about rehab yet or physiotherapy, let alone letting him go home. No one wanted to overload him.

Cool.

But not knowing what happened to him was driving him crazy.

He was allowed to talk to Scott once since he woke up a week earlier. He was supervised by his dad and clearly Scott was instructed by his mom to keep the conversation quick and light.

“I missed you, man,” Scott said near the end. Stiles’ heart ached from the relief he could hear in his best friend’s voice and that they weren’t together.

“I miss you now,” Stiles replied, staring down at his fingers where they tangled in his blankets. He was quiet for a second, then, “Hey Scott?”

Clearly Scott’s perception skills were better honed while Stiles was under because he abruptly ended the conversation, said he loved him and he promised to come home the first weekend he could get free from his school work.

Stiles wished he could say he wasn’t hurt but he really, really fucking was. 

And then he got angry.

His father took his cell back and tucked it into his pocket. 

“Good to hear his voice?” John asked with a smile.

“Sure. Great,” Stiles replied in a clipped tone.

“What? Did he say something?”

“No,” Stiles replied, shaking his head. Then he looked his father dead in the eye. “He didn’t say _anything_. And that’s the problem.”

A look of realization crossed John’s face. “Stiles-”

“No. No! I’m sick of being in the dark. What the hell happened to me? What happened that night?” 

John crossed his room quickly and glanced into the hall before closing the door almost all the way. 

“Stiles, this isn’t easy.”

“For you? This isn’t easy for you?”

“For any of us. You’ve had something taken from you by missing these past couple years but we missed that time, too. And Stiles, I can’t stand to go through any of that again, do you hear me? If something happens to you again, if you over-exerted yourself- I couldn’t take it.”

“Dad, I can’t take _not knowing_ ,” Stiles’s voice cracked and he felt a tear run down his cheek. 

John approached the bed and folded Stiles in his arms, hugging him tightly. Stiles wound his arms around his dad’s waist and held on like he hadn’t since his mom died.

*****************

They came to an agreement. 

Stiles started his rehab and worked out with the physiotherapists. The speech language therapist was blown away by how little he was affected orally. John made a crack about how Stiles came out of the womb talking and they all laughed but Stiles couldn’t help but think there was something more at play.

He kept his suspicions to himself.

The physiotherapist explained that Stiles was young and so wasn’t affected as much physically as someone older in his position would be but that didn’t mean he was going to be running any marathons soon.

“Coach would be happy,” Stiles muttered under his breath as he struggled to stand upright. 

Walking was shaky at first but he caught on quick. He was winded easily, though, and had to use a walker at first to make sure he could get around without toppling over.

Once he graduated to a cane in a few days he made his request again.

“Please, dad. I need to know.”

Finally John relented.

*****************

Stiles could tell John wasn’t impressed but he didn’t say no when Stiles requested that Deaton join them when John explained what happened.

True to Deaton form when he arrived at the facility he greeted Stiles like it had only been days since they’d last seen each other, instead of two years.

“Your father allowed me to come in and try some of my own remedies on you,” Deaton said without Stiles saying anything.

“Good to know you’re still cryptic as hell,” Stiles replied drily. Deaton just smiled.

“What _do_ you remember?”

Stiles furrowed his brow, as if by thinking harder he’d remember more. There were flashes, like lightning in his brain, and he could feel things. Wetness, the sharp poke of imprinted metal against his fingers, picking at a sliver in the heel of his hand... Things that until that very moment he had no recollection of. 

Deaton: always bringing the good times.

“I remember... the hospital? Being in the ambulance with Cora. I had to give her mouth to mouth. And there was a lot of running. We... we found out about Jennifer. She...” Stiles turned to John questioningly. 

“She’s gone,” is all John would say and Stiles nodded.

“She had you. Took you somewhere and we were trying to find out where. I was so angry with Derek. He has the worst taste in women,” Stiles said with a laugh, although it came out rough and small and he felt winded. John and Deaton smiled at him, though.

“Then things get sketchy. I don’t know if I dreamed while I was out or... it’s just too hard to figure out what’s real and what’s not.”

“You were instrumental in finding your father, Stiles,” Deaton explained. “You, Scott and Allison.”

Stiles blinked slowly, again remembering the feeling of water. He could feel the pads of his fingers and toes wrinkling and how uncomfortable his jeans were. _Cold_.

“The tubs,” Stiles said quietly. Deaton nodded. “Go on.”

“There’s no easy way to say this other than you essentially died that night. For seventeen hours you, Scott and Allison went... well, I don’t actually know. But wherever it was saved many lives and allowed you to find the nematon and bring a stop to things that would have been much worse had they come to pass.”

John made a noise from his chair and Stiles could see the tight expression on his face but Deaton seemed unfazed. 

“Your father and I have had a difference of opinion these past years about the actual significance of everything and your sacrifice to the nematon.”

“Yeah, that fucking thing,” John sighed.

“Dad!” Stiles admonished with a teasing smile. “Language.”

“That _thing_ is one spot in my life that I will never think of as less than evil for the rest of my existence. Everything I know or have ever learned about that thing has been evil.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be,” Stiles offered, the information about the druids and their affiliation to the packs coming back to him in a flood of memories.

John smiled wryly. “Funny how things go south so quickly around here.”

“So we did that thing with you, Deaton, and we saved the day?”

“In a roundabout way. Allison and Isaac found us, babbling something about seeing the nematon and Jennifer Blake. You were supposed to be there, too. But you never showed,” John said with a faraway look in his eyes.

“How did you find me?”

“Tracked your cell. Found you crashed into a tree on the preserve. The weather was so strangely weird that night...”

“Jennifer,” Stiles breathed. “She was causing all that disruption with the weather and bugs and everything. I remember that now. All the power she needed-it sucked all the balance out of the area.”

“Course it did.”   
“So you tracked me to the preserve and then...”

“That was about it. We got you to the hospital. You were there for a few months before we moved you here. There was nothing we could do, unfortunately. We’re not sure that if you were at full strength if you wouldn’t have fallen into a coma anyway. Head injuries are hard to predict and we can’t exactly consult the doctors on this matter.”

“Yeah, ‘hey doc. My son survived being under water without oxygen for seventeen hours, think that has something to do with his coma?’”

“Exactly. Alan’s been here at times, too.”

Stiles looked over at the vet with a raised eyebrow.

“I think I’ve put off some of the staff here with my chanting and herbs.”

Stiles’ eyebrow raised higher.

“I’ve been doing research to see if I could lessen the nematon’s hold on you.”

Stiles could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “The darkness,” he breathed.

Deaton cocked his head and looked at Stiles, interested. “Yes. Do you remember what I said about it?”

Stiles thought hard and slowly fit some pieces of the puzzle in his head into place. “Something about... darkness around my heart?”

John made another noise at this but kept silent. Stiles and Deaton had a stare-off.

Finally Deaton nodded. “That’s right.”

“But the accident was just an accident, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Stiles breathed.

“Although.”

“Although?”

“I do have to wonder if the experience had any effect on you in the coma.” Deaton said that like a statement but there was a question on his face clearly directed at Stiles that Stiles wasn’t sure he was ready to answer.

Not with his dad in the room, at any rate.

“Scott and Allison?” Stiles asked, avoiding Deaton’s gaze.

John fielded that question. “Fine. Allison and Isaac managed to keep the cellar from collapsing on us before Scott and Derek could come for us. Chris ended up with a broken ankle and Melissa sprained her wrist but we escaped relatively unscathed, considering the situation.”

Stiles gasped, remembering Scott’s role in the events of that night. “Deucalion! What -what- where?” His mind moved too quickly for his mouth to react and he couldn’t get the words out.

John gestured for Stiles to slow down. “He was let go.” Stiles’ mouth dropped open. “That’s all I really know and all I wanted to know. He’s gone and hasn’t bothered the town since and that’s all I’ve cared about since then. I’ve been preoccupied, as you know.”

“But... the twins? Kali?”

“Kali was killed by Jennifer. The twins stuck around for a while and then left. One of them’s with Danny, from what I understand and I don’t know what happened to the other one. Apparently Scott worked something out with them.”

“Scott did?”

“Scott...”

“Dad, what?”

“He’s the alpha now.”

Stiles blinked. “But—Derek.”

John sighed again. “Derek’s gone, son.”

Stiles gaped for a second. “Gone? He’s... dead?”

John shook his head quickly. “No, no, sorry! No, he’s not dead. He left, though. Him and Cora.”

Stiles was starting to think his father might have been right in now wanting to overload him with too much information right away. He felt like his entire universe was falling out from under him. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t been in touch with them at all and I’m not sure anyone has, honestly. Peter’s all but disappeared, not sure what’s up with him. Alan? Do you know more?”

Deaton shook his head. “Unfortunately I have been as out of the loop when it comes to the Hales as you have, Sheriff. I see Peter around town every now and then but he does his best to avoid me when he sees me.”

“That’d be Peter,” Stiles muttered. He stifled a yawn suddenly and tried to tip his head down as if he were stretching but his dad saw it.

“Okay, I think that’s enough excitement for now,” John announced already holding his hands up over Stiles’ inevitable protests. “We can discuss more tomorrow, if you want and Alan is only a phone call away, aren’t you?”

Deaton, knowing his time was done, nodded as he stood up. “I look forward to seeing you outside this place, Stiles.”

“I still need to know things!” Stiles exclaimed even as he opened his mouth in a large yawn he couldn’t tamp down this time. He could feel his eyelids getting heavy and he was suddenly overcome with fatigue that made his head swim.

John pushed him back against the pillows gently and Stiles went, even as he wanted to keep talking.

“Not right now, anyway. You’re exhausted and you can barely keep your eyes open. Please, sleep now.”

“Dad, I need to know,” Stiles said, even as his eyes started to droop. 

“I know, son. I know.”

Deaton slipped out of the room as Stiles fell asleep to the feeling of his dad stroking his hair and holding his hand. Always one to have the last word Stiles whispered, _“I need to know.”_

*****************

Waking up was completely foreign to Stiles now. As soon as he opened his eyes he had no idea where he was, what time it was, who _he_ was. He would panic for a split second before his eyes adjusted and he found something familiar in the room. 

The flowers from Allison, the chair by his bed that his dad usually took, the framed picture of Stiles and Scott from middle school on the bedside table. Something to anchor him.

He didn’t often wake up in the middle of the night. The staff would come in a couple times a night and check his vitals but he was used to that now, even out of the coma.

That night when he woke he stared straight up at the ceiling, trying to get his bearings. He didn’t know what woke him. He couldn’t hear anyone coming or going from his room and his, er, roommate was still silent.

Stiles moved carefully and sat up in bed, bracing himself to make sure he wasn’t going to tip over. He had to be escorted to the bathroom at times and still used the damn cane when he wanted to get out of bed and move around. 

He felt like a freaking seventy year-old but he knew that without the help he’d be on the floor in no time. The doctors didn’t want to overload him so everything was going slowly. Physio was painfully plodding and it was driving Stiles crazy even though he knew he couldn’t push himself any more than he already was.

He looked around the dark room as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He could hear the soft breathing from his comatose roommate but that was it.

That was never just _it_ in Stiles’ life.

“Who’s there?” he whispered. “C’mon. I’m used to things that go bump in the night.”

Stiles threw back his blankets and struggled to move his legs so he could swing them over the side of the bed. It was difficult to make that simple bit of movement and he was winded from it.

He grunted a bit as his arms shook to keep himself upright while he moved and he wasn’t sure he was going to make it when suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, pushing him back into bed.

“Jesus Christ, Stiles.”

“D-Derek? _Derek_?”

“Shh, I’m not supposed to be here,” Derek hissed as he covered Stiles back up with his blankets. Stiles struggled to move up the bed a bit and turned on the light over his bed, surprising them both with the sudden burst harsh fluorescent light. 

“Hey!” Derek cast a worried glance to the other side of the room but Stiles just waved his hand.

“He’s as out as I was a couple weeks ago. He won’t wake up until he’s good and ready, don’t worry.”

“Like you,” Derek said hollowly.

“Yup,” Stiles replied, adding a pop to the ‘p’ sound. He sat himself up against his pillows and crossed his hands in his lap. “So. Um. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Derek repeated blankly.

“I figured that was politer than ‘what the fuck, Hale?’” 

Derek blinked.

Stiles stared at him.

“Any time now,” Stiles finally said. 

“You weren’t supposed to see me,” Derek finally blurted out, then closed his eyes in frustration.

“Your creeper skills need some fine tuning, then. When you can’t even sneak up on the dude who just woke up from a two-year coma and can’t even get out of bed without nearly passing out you’ve lost your touch.”

“Stiles,” Derek said tightly. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“Don’t make a joke out of this!”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Are you fucking kidding me? Are we seriously having this conversation right now?”

Derek looked anywhere but at Stiles and was practically radiating his discomfort. Stiles caught his glance at the window that only opened about a foot and could tell he was calculating how he could get across the room and out with minimal attention and damage.

“First off, hi Derek. Nice to see you after all this time. Oh, wait. No it isn’t, cause you’re a raging douche.

“Secondly, you left. Okay? You packed up and left the second you could and you weren’t even _here_ the entire time I was out. So I don’t see why it’s any concern of you now that I’ve woken up. What the hell are you _doing_ here, dude? 

“Thirdly? How I do or don’t make fun of what happened to _me_ is my choice. This is how I fucking deal, okay? I lost two goddamn years of my life and this is how I want to treat it so back the fuck off.”

Stiles’ chest was heaving from verbally ripping into Derek but _damn_ if it didn’t feel good to get that all out. Since waking up he felt so out of control of his own life. He was lost and unsure and everyone else was making decisions for him so finally getting it out, at least some of it, was amazing.

It just happened to be Derek that caught the brunt of it all.

Which he deserved. 

Who the hell breaks into a long-term care facility to creep? Weirdo.

Derek stood still and took it all, barely reacting. When Stiles was finally done he looked up and stared at Stiles with the most helpless look in the world that Stiles felt bad for yelling at him. Stiles felt bad _for_ Derek and the damn dude hadn’t even done anything.

Fuck.

“I”m sorry,” Derek replied. “I didn’t expect you to see me.”

Stiles rolled his head back against his pillows and groaned. “Dude, your bad decisions haven’t gotten any better, you know that?”

“Sorry,” Derek repeated.

“Stop saying that! What’s wrong with you? Where’s snarky old sourwolf?”

“I didn’t expect this, okay? I didn’t have a plan when I came here. I just wanted to be sure...”

“Sure that I was still alive? Or dead? Finally finished off?”

“No! Stiles- fuck. You know that’s not what I wanted. I heard you came out of it and I had to make sure.”

“Sure of what?”

“Just to make sure, okay? That’s it.” Derek turned on his heel and started to move to the door. “And now I am so, bye.”

“Whoa whoa whoa! Where are you going? Don’t leave!”

“You clearly don’t want me here.” 

“That’s not true! I mean, out of everyone you were the last one on the list that- hey now! Don’t run off! I’m not done! I’ve been in a coma, you have to stay!”

Derek let out a hoarse bark of laughter but he turned back to face Stiles. Stiles gestured to the chair beside his bed and Derek put up no fight in sitting down.

“So. Tell Papa Stiles where you’ve been.”

“Papa Stiles?” Derek repeated dubiously.

“Stop avoiding. Where’d you go? Why’re you back?”

“New York,” Derek said shortly.

“Ahh, back to the Big Apple. Cora there or did she come back too?”

Derek shook his head. “She started her first year of university in New Mexico. So she’s off doing... that.” Derek waved his hand dismissively.

“Okay. So Cora went off to be a real girl. And you’re here. So again, why?”

“Stiles...” Derek started uneasily. 

“I was in a coma-”

“As you keep reminding me.”

“It’s like being a Make-A-Wish kid, okay? I get to go to Disneyland and stuff. This is my Disneyland. Why is Derek Hale back in Beacon Hills and the first real person I see?”

“No one else has visited?” Derek asked, surprised.

“They’re all off being real boys and girls, too,” Stiles replied, casting his eyes down at his hands pulling at his sheets. “And I think my dad is keeping them away but it’s mostly the doing their own thing… thing.” Derek watched him fidget for a minute or so before sighing.

“I had to check some things out here. Heard you were awake and just wanted to be sure. Since, y’know.”

Stiles cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest.

Derek sighed again. “Because it was my fault?”

Stiles didn’t say anything. It really wasn’t Derek’s fault but in a roundabout way...

“Thanks,” Derek muttered.

Stiles blinked. “No. I mean, yes! I mean. Okay. Yeah, your girlfriend was the reason why I was out on the roads that night when I was in the accident but _you_ weren’t the cause of it. Jesus, Derek. If anything I’d think that these couple years away from Beacon Hills would’ve made you a little less of a martyr but, nope. Here you are, wallowing in your own guilt.”

“Thanks,” Derek replied again with an eye roll. “I didn’t come here for a therapy session, Stiles.”

“Yeah, well neither did I but here we are,” Stiles snapped back.

It felt like old times, with Stiles and Derek both pissed off and at odds with each other. It was the most normal Stiles had felt since waking up. He let out a soft snort that drew Derek’s frown. 

Stiles started to chuckle at the look on his face and within seconds he couldn’t stop. He was full out belly laughing, holding his poor sides because they weren’t used to such strenuous activity anymore. Derek watched Stiles and a smile crept across his face until he was chuckling to himself, as well.

Stiles calmed down, holding his sides with both hands and grunting with every hitching breath he took. Derek looked alarmed but Stiles waved it off.

“Turns out I’m about as strong as a seven year old girl right now. Just need to get my hot bod back again,” he explained. Derek wisely didn’t say anything.

“But seriously,” Stiles continued. “Why are you back in Beacon Hills? It isn’t just because I’m awake. You could have just done a heavy breather on the phone if that were the case.”

“You’re right,” Derek conceded, then shook his head. “Not about the heavy breathing thing! I got a call that week? Uh, what day did you wake up again?”

Stiles thought for a second, trying to piece the days together. “Tuesday evening.”

Derek’s jaw tightened. “I got a call late Tuesday night.”

Stiles felt a chill go through his body but to cover it he threw his hands in the air and groaned. “That’s not suspicious or anything. Does it _never_ end around here?”

“It was Deaton.”

“What?”

“Deaton called me. He tracked me down somehow-”

“Funny. He told me he lost touch with you guys.”

“You’re not seriously thinking that Deaton’s planning something?” Derek asked skeptically.

“No, but would it hurt the guy to be straight with people _for once_? I think after all the bullshit from before that I’ve earned _something_.”

“I get what you’re saying. I’m not sure Deaton has that in him, though.”

“When did you get all zen wolf? You’d be brooding in the corner and giving everyone the knife-eyes by this point normally.”

“‘Knife-eyes’?”

“Well, you know, trying to kill people with your eyes? Shooting daggers? I don’t know! You’d be pissed, is what I’m saying!”

“Don’t think I’m not. I’m just as tired of the cryptic Beacon Hills bullshit as you are but Deaton’s come through in the past, even though we’ve had to learn a lesson first,” Derek explained.

“I’ve had enough after school special crap to last me another lifetime. I really don’t have time to deal with supernatural shit right now, anyway,” Stiles said, gesturing to his basically bed-ridden body.

“I really should go,” Derek said, standing up. Stiles started to protest but Derek continued. “I mean for right now. I’ll check into a hotel, see Deaton in the morning and try to find out what’s going on. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

Stiles gave Derek a _look_. “I never thought I’d see the day that sourwolf was replaced with positivewolf.”

Derek walked to the door and opened it a little to check the hallway. “A lot happened while you were sleeping. You have to catch up, for once,” Derek replied and full-on grinned before slipping out of the room too quickly for Stiles to say anything.

Not five minutes later one of the nurses was doing a round, saw Stiles’ light on and opened the door, concerned.

“Mr. Stilinski? Are you okay?” she asked, walking into the room.

“Yeah, just couldn’t sleep,” Stiles replied automatically with a smile. “I was just going to try again.

The nurse smiled back and moved to turn the light off but Stiles’ arm shot out to stop her.

“Can I leave it on?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Stiles replied as she left the room and closed the door quietly behind her. 

Stiles didn’t turn the light off and didn’t sleep until the sun broke the horizon and flooded his room. Then, and only then, did he let his eyes drift closed.

His earlier chill at learning Derek’s sudden arrival and Stiles coming out of the coma were suspiciously linked turned into an all over numb feeling that he couldn’t shake.

*****************

“Doctor’s saying you can come home, maybe next week,” John announced excitedly as he entered Stiles’ room one evening after he got off work.

“That’s what I’ve been hearing!” Stiles replied. 

It was only a couple days after Derek’s late night visit but Stiles started to recover in leaps and bounds. He could finally go to the bathroom without a cane!

He was still weak as hell and could barely open a heavy door without getting winded but he was doing better. Release from the facility would mean he could sleep in his own bed, could get used to being in his own space again and hopefully shake the feeling like there was something on his back, watching over him.

Stiles chalked it up to paranoid delusions of a guy with way too much imagination and time on his hands for the most part but he couldn’t help wondering about the worst case scenarios.

Things in Beacon Hills don’t just calm down like that.

But in order to even try to figure out what might (or might not) be going on Stiles needed his books, unlimited internet access and more alone time than the twenty five minutes between nurse checkups.

John was sitting by his bed for his daily visit, filling Stiles in on some of the progress he’d made in arranging for Stiles’ return home.

“Melissa and I will help you out as much as possible but we’ll have to look into getting you a tutor to get you up to speed. Unless you want to go back to school to finish-”

“No! Nope, nope, nope,” Stiles cut in while shaking his head. “High school was bad enough when I had my friends there with me, I don’t really feel like going back and reliving it all without them. I’ll take my GED and go from there, I guess.” 

His father laughed and nodded. “I figured as much. Okay, after you get settled back into a routine I’ll start looking for someone who can help you study for the GED and then we can go from there.”

John hesitated for a second, then continued. “I’d like to be able to get you a nurse or someone who could help you with your rehab too, but unfortunately the insurance just doesn’t cover it and-”

“Dad, it’s fine. I’m not paralyzed or anything, I just need a little help with things. It’ll be fine,” Stiles said quickly, feeling his heart clench for how helpless his dad looked, even though Stiles was the one still in the bed.

“I could help.”

Stiles and John both jerked their heads up towards the door where Derek stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

“Excuse me?” John’s voice had a hard edge to it, like he was gearing up for a fight. Stiles reached out and laid his hand on his father’s arm, prompting him to back down before he started. “What the hell are you doing here, Hale?”

“I heard Stiles was awake,” Derek replied. John’s face hardened and he opened his mouth to say something, probably something that wasn’t going to be the politest way to welcome back a former Beacon Hills resident but Stiles interrupted.

“How can you help, Derek?” Stiles asked, offering Derek a chance. John looked over at Stiles, surprised, because last he knew Stiles was blindsided that Derek left but now he didn’t seem surprised at all. 

Derek stepped further into the room but stayed towards the window and away from Stiles’ bed.

“I wasn’t trying to listen in but, y’know,” Derek said as he pointed to his ear. “I just meant that I could help Stiles study for the GED and I could be around to help him with his rehab if I knew what to do. I can drive him to appointments and free up time and money for you guys. I don’t have anywhere that I need to be for a while so I could stick around. Sheriff, I know that I’m probably the last person you want around right now-”

“Got that right,” John muttered, even though he knew Derek could hear him but Stiles sent him a sharp look. John pressed his lips together angrily but was quiet.

“I want to help. I feel responsible for what happened so I want to try to make amends. Plus I’ll do it for free.”

“Did you even finish high school, son?” John asked.

“I actually got my GED in New York after... well, after I left.”

“The first time.”

Derek nodded. “Yes, the first time.”

Stiles could feel the tension getting thicker in the room, could feel his father’s hackles rising as he needled at Derek. Stiles knew John was trying to get a response out of Derek that would justify his immediate reaction to say no and slam the door in Derek’s face.

Stiles wasn’t having it.

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“Stiles,” John snapped. “Stay out of this.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Right now is not the time-”

“Oh, I think it’s exactly the time. I’m the one stuck in this bed and have been for two years now. I can’t imagine what you went through, Dad, and I’m sorry about how it happened. I can’t help that now and neither can Derek. But he’s here now offering to help and I trust him.”

Stiles could see Derek go rigid out of the corner of his eye at that statement but he didn’t say anything.

“And,” Stiles continued. “He offered to do it for free. I don’t think we can refuse that right now, am I right?”

“I could make it work,” John tried but his tone was one of someone who knew he’d been defeated. 

Stiles grinned. “So it’s settled.”

“Either I’m weak because I’m so damn happy you’re back, kid, or your persuasion skills got better while you were under,” John grumbled. 

He stood up and grabbed his coat to leave but first he pointed a finger squarely at Derek’s chest. 

“If anything happens to him-”

“I won’t let that happen,” Derek promised, as grave as a man on his way to death row.

Between Stiles’ and Derek’s luck Stiles sure as hell hoped that wasn’t a portent of things to come.

*****************

Derek was a quick learner. He spent Stiles’ last days in the care centre getting information on how to help Stiles with his exercises, learning his routine and taking notes on the more complicated parts. He set Stiles’ appointments with the physiotherapists and follow ups with the doctors into his own phone with alerts so he knew when he had to get Stiles around. 

He helped John set up Stiles’ room for easier access to his bed and desk and, from what Stiles heard afterward, there were no wolfsbane bullets or even harsh words spoken.

There were hardly any words spoken at all but Stiles considered that a success.

Even though he knew he was pushing it Stiles even wheedled with his father and got him to let Derek stay in the guest room for at least a little while. Derek protested, said that he could easily stay at a hotel, but Stiles argued that would be absurd and what happened if John was at work overnight and Stiles needed help getting to the bathroom or downstairs for a snack or—

“Okay, okay!” John exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “I give. Derek, you may stay in the guest room across the room from Stiles. But if for one second you make me regret that decision…” John didn’t even have to finish his threat.

As soon as John left the room Derek turned to Stiles and eyed him warily. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Stiles asked innocently. “I’m just thinking about the easiest and fastest way for me to recover.”

That Derek was his best access to figuring out what the hell happened to him while he was in the coma and the growing creepy sensation that he couldn’t shake only had a little to do with it.

Yeah.

*****************

Stiles didn’t expect returning home would hit him as hard as it did. He hobbled through the front door, feeling drained from the short trip out of the care centre by wheelchair, then home by car and the shuffle into the house he insisted on doing by himself with his cane even though Derek and his dad hovered the whole way.

But as soon as he crossed the threshold into his home, the one that he didn’t _feel_ like he’d been away from for over two years, he felt his eyes fill with tears. The smell hit him right away. The smell of his _life_. Until that very moment he didn’t realize that everything around him was clinical and sterile and dull for so long. But his house still smelled like everything he ever remembered.

Little things had changed. A new blanket draped across the back of the couch, slightly different furniture arrangement, new TV. Things that he didn’t blink at. 

But the smell.

“I get it,” Derek said softly, for only Stiles to hear. 

And for a brief moment Stiles let himself lean against Derek. Said thanks without words and shared that overwhelming feeling with someone else who understood exactly what Stiles was feeling because he’d been there. 

It’s just that Derek never got the chance to go back home.

*****************

“So why are you here?” Stiles asked out of the blue later that day. 

Derek and John helped Stiles up the stairs to his bedroom that very little had been changed since the last time he was in it. John ran out to grab a few things from the store which Stiles was pretty sure was an initial test to make sure Derek didn’t let Stiles fall down the stairs or eat him or something before he left them alone on an overnight shift or something.

Derek was unpacking Stiles’ small suitcase for him, hanging up the meagre items of clothing he’d apparently accumulated over the past two years. Derek paused what he was doing and looked strangely at Stiles.

“Are you having retrograde amnesia or something?”

“What? No,” Stiles replied, shaking his head.

“Then you _know_ why I’m here.”

“I don’t mean at this very moment or why you came. I mean, why are you _still_ here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really grateful to you that you _are_ here because it turned out to be a great help to my dad and I but don’t you have a life back in New York now? Haven’t you… you know, moved on? You know, a job or pack or something?” Stiles asked, as carefully as he could even though it all came out rather bluntly.

Derek pressed his lips together in a thin line and continued to hang up Stiles’ things without saying anything. Stiles could wait, though. Wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

Finally, once Derek was done with Stiles’ things, he faced Stiles. “No. There’s no pack and no job that I regret giving up and like I said, Cora’s at school. So there wasn’t much to leave.”

“Are you going back?” Stiles asked, curious. Again Derek was quiet for a few minutes. 

“I don’t know.”

“I mean it, you know.”

“What?”

“I’m really happy you’re here. So much has changed without me knowing it. It’s nice to have someone around who…”

“Gets it?” Derek supplied.

Stiles nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Same here.”

And just like that they were finally on something akin to even ground and it felt pretty good.

*****************

The first visitor Stiles got once arriving home was Isaac, of all people. Not that it was a bad thing but Stiles didn’t expect him. 

He also didn’t expect the look on Isaac’s face when Derek opened the door for him before Isaac could even knock.

“Derek,” Isaac breathed, looking up at his former Alpha with confusion all over his face.

“Come in,” Derek said rather stiffly and stepped aside for Isaac to enter.

“At least he didn’t growl and push you up against the wall with his fangs bared! Or materialize out of thin air in the middle of the night,” Stiles called from where he was sitting on the couch, doing some light strengthening exercises for his hands and arms. 

“Uh,” was all Isaac said.

“He hasn’t done the first one yet but the second one is how he greeted me. So count yourself lucky,” Stiles continued, then he looked at Derek. “See how nice it is to learn how to properly interact with people?”

“Shut up and greet your guest, Stiles,” Derek growled, before stalking back to his spot on the couch beside Stiles so he could monitor his progress.

“I’d stand up for you but, uh, it’s a bit of a hassle to get up and down right now. Excuse my rudeness?” Stiles asked Isaac.

“Uh,” Isaac said again.

“We broke him,” Stiles sighed. “Sad. First person to come see me and he’s broken already.”

“I just… wow. I mean, _you_ Stiles! And here’s Derek and it’s been two years, you know?”

“That’s what they tell me,” Stiles replied drily.

“Sorry! I mean, wow.”

“You said that already.”

“Shit, sorry!”

“Dude, calm down! I’m the same as I was. Pretty sure, anyway. That’s what they tell me, anyway,” Stiles babbled, feeling awkward at Isaac’s unease with him or the situation, he couldn’t tell which.

“Right, right. Sor-anyway. Um,” Isaac mumbled as he dropped into the arm chair across from the couch where Stiles and Derek were sitting. “How’s things?”

Stiles let out a bark of laughter. “Never better, how about you?”

“Oh, y’know. Working for Deaton and doing some correspondence courses,” Isaac replied with a shrug.

Stiles nodded and then the conversation just kind of… died. _Derek_ actually stepped in to save it.

“How’s the pack?” he asked and immediately Stiles knew it was a wrong move. Even he could feel Isaac’s shields go up.

“Good. You know.”

Derek opened his mouth as if to say something else but then he closed it and sat back on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. Suddenly Isaac turned to Stiles.

“Can I talk to you in private?" Isaac asked Stiles, but he was glancing at Derek out of the corner of his eye. 

"Uh, I guess, sure," Stiles shrugged. Derek took the hint and left the room but not without shooting a _look_ at Isaac.

Isaac waited until he heard Derek go into the kitchen and out the back door before he spoke. Stiles knew he couldn't be sure that Derek wasn't right out side the door and still able to hear but it was a risk Isaac would have to take.

"What's up?" Stiles asked, curious about what Isaac couldn't say in front of Derek.

"You know you have the pack's protection, right? That you're one of us?" Isaac asked once he turned fully to Stiles. 

"I guess? I mean, I never thought of it," Stiles replied. “I’ve kind of had other things on my mind.”

"If you need anything that can't be gotten from anyone else or anywhere else..." Isaac trailed off and Stiles furrowed his brow.

"This is all sounding a little like a cross between a mob movie and a porn, Isaac. I'm not sure which I should be more freaked out about."

Isaac blushed and shook his head. "Scott just wanted me to make sure you knew that. He heard from his mom that Derek was going to be living here and he wanted me to let you know."

"Is this Scott my friend talking or Scott the alpha? Cause it sounds to me like you're getting all hot and bothered about a dude who flew across the country just to make sure I was okay when I woke up and then volunteered to help get me better. Which is more than I can say for the pack," Stiles said. His tone was light but there was an edge to his words.

"I know that Scott has school and you're the one coming here with his message but if this is going to turn into some sort of pissing match that I'm a pawn in I want nothing to do with it. I will put myself in front of a wolfsbane bullet for any of you but I refuse to let some macho territorial bullshit get in the way of me getting better, pack or no pack. Especially when this all involves the very dude who this territory came from and who it rightfully belongs to. If I really have the pack's protection then protect me from stupid bullshit," Stiles bit out.

His hands were shaking as they clutched the weight he was doing his exercises with. They didn't feel tired or achy, though. Instead he felt like there was electricity running through them and if he just _pushed_ it a little that maybe he could really prove his point.

“It’s not like that, Stiles,” Isaac replied, looking miserable. “It’s just… it’s pack stuff. And Derek’s back all of a sudden like nothing happened?”

“No, a lot happened. We all know that. And he didn’t have to stay. He’s not staying for power or the territory or whatever, you know that. If this is posturing because of instinct or some weird pack power trip I’m declaring my house and the surrounding area a neutral zone. I’m tired, Isaac, and that sounds stupid coming from someone who was asleep for two years but seriously. _Seriously_. He’s not here to hurt anyone!”

The back door opened and shut, quick and loud and Isaac jumped despite himself. Derek appeared in the doorway, his face unreadable.

"Stiles needs a lot of rest right now so it's probably time for you to go," Derek said evenly. Isaac glanced at Stiles who nodded. 

"Think about what I said," Isaac said as he got up from the couch.

"And you think about what I said," Stiles returned, his voice hard. The electric feeling in his body was fading out as quickly as it came and he was, indeed, tired.

Derek saw Isaac to the door even though it was only a few feet. Derek had a look on his face that Stiles could only describe as “constipated” but he was happy to see that at the last second Derek held his hand out for Isaac to shake. 

Isaac took it slowly and while it wasn’t a hug or a rush of apologies or promises to be better it seemed like maybe things could be okay?

*****************

Rehab was slow as shit.

Three weeks later Stiles was still using the cane periodically, he was no closer to finding out what the hell was up with the pictures in his head and he was bored out of his mind.

Scott called every couple days but kept things vague and light. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was because Derek was around and could easily hear both sides of the conversation or if he didn’t want to get too invested in Stiles’ _feelings_ or something. Lydia sent texts all the time and they Skyped a few times but she was across the country with no more of a connection to anything supernatural than Stiles had. Isaac dropped by some more but the tension between Derek and Isaac was palpable. 

It was exhausting, to say the least.

Having Derek around was okay, sure. Even more than okay since he didn’t have to hide around Stiles and he was actually a pretty good guy once you got through the stoney silence of him. But he was so concerned with making sure Stiles was getting better that they didn’t do anything _but_ rehab. Derek drove him to and from the hospital three times a week for his sessions with the physiotherapist and doctors and whoever else he needed to see all the freaking time, then he brought Stiles him and made sure he napped and did more exercises. In between all that Derek was easing him into some of the studying for his GED, which was only happening at Stiles’ insistence.

Stiles appreciated every single second that Derek devoted to him. He didn’t have to be there, for sure, and he didn’t have to stop his life to make sure Stiles could get better but here he was. So how could he say anything about it?

So he told his dad.

“I need a day pass, a reprieve, a hall pass- _something_!” Stiles blurted out one night over dinner. Derek looked up for a second, but ducked his head back down and stared at his plate.

The Sheriff didn’t look surprised but he didn’t look like he was going to get on board, either. 

“I don’t know, Stiles,” he started.

“A movie! Can’t I go to a movie? Short duration, I can sit through the whole thing- hell, if I get really tired I can sleep through it. I’ll even pick something boring and quiet for that reason. I _need to get out of this house_ ,” Stiles said in a rush, bringing his hand down on the table firmly, reaching out to his father.

John sighed and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I guess we could go sometime next week? I’m on nights right now, so that wouldn’t work. Or maybe a weekend matinee?”

Stiles bit back an honest-to-god whine in the back of his throat and smiled tightly. He was so bored and tired of being pent up that his skin felt like it was crawling. 

Derek must have noticed how stiff his expression was or maybe he could even feel Stiles’ discord because he cleared his throat, drawing the sheriff’s attention. “I could take him? To the movies? Or maybe even just out for coffee or a short trip to the mall? Stiles is doing well with his physic and the doctor has mentioned that getting out on some walks outside could help, too. Change of pace and all.”

John raised an eyebrow at Stiles, who shrugged because he had nothing to do with this unsolicited offer.

“Well, if the _doctor_ suggested it,” John said as he rolled his eyes. “Yes, Stiles, you are relieved from what you think is house arrest. But you,” John pointed at Derek. “Be aware that if he tires himself out or you have to carry him home like a sack of flour that’s on you.”

Derek nodded but there was a small smile on his lips. “Yes sir.”

Stiles sighed in relief. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Just don’t push yourself, kid.”

“Will… not do!” Stiles said triumphantly.

Which is how he and Derek ended up seeing a loud, plotless, logic-defying action movie the next evening. Stiles actually felt relaxed after an hour and a half of explosions and good guys running after bad guys and he said as much on the drive home.

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed it,” Derek muttered.

“Hey, you’re just pissed that it was basically a shitty portrayal of our lives a few years ago!”

“Yes, Stiles. Our lives that had fewer explosions and more claws.”

“Claws _and_ bullets! And there was that time at the motel on the way to the track competition that-“

“Okay, Stiles, yes. That movie was exactly like our lives,” Derek cut him off but he was laughing a little.

“Ha! Made you laugh! I knew this was a good idea for both of us. Man is not meant to be cooped up in a house all the time. Or werewolf. I don’t mean for you to be a shut-in like me while you’re here,” Stiles said as he reached out and poked Derek in one of his cheeks. He felt punch-drunk at the moment, possibly from the relief at being able to get out like a normal person or having something familiar and regular happen, finally. 

Derek turned his head for a second and snapped at Stiles’ finger with his teeth without actually biting but Stiles didn’t pull back. Instead he dropped his hand to Derek’s shoulder and kind of leaned against him between the seats casually.

Derek didn’t say a thing.

Stiles didn’t move until they pulled into the driveway and had to get out of the car. 

“I don’t mind being here, you know,” Derek said as they made their way up the walkway to the house.

“Mmm?” Stiles replied absently.

“You treat everything we do like it’s a huge imposition to me. Like I don’t have a choice in being here and you’re just waiting for me to drop you and run away,” Derek explained.

“You’re not?” Stiles asked suspiciously.

“No, you moron,” Derek shot back. They got to the porch and Derek turned to Stiles in front of the door.

“I offered to help you. Yeah, okay, some of that is because I feel responsible, _but_ ,” he added quickly when saw Stiles open his mouth. “It doesn’t mean I had to become this involved. We were friends before. Right?”

“I… guess? In a weird way,” Stiles replied.

“Thanks,” Derek said sarcastically.

“I can’t pretend I didn’t feel like we were more forced acquaintances but if it helps I really believe it now. I don’t know if I’d even be out of that stupid bed at the centre if you weren’t helping. So thanks,” Stiles said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. 

Derek smiled and stepped forward, into Stiles’s space. Stiles looked up, surprised, and felt his heart beat faster at how close Derek was. He smelled _really_ good, Stiles realized at once. 

Stiles tilted his head back a little more for a split second, wondering…

Derek opened the front door and poked Stiles gently to move him over the threshold. Stiles dropped his head quickly and stumbled inside from his own klutziness instead of his still-jerky body.

John was already in bed which Derek knew from the light snores coming from upstairs and he told Stiles such.

“Cool. I’m going to take a shower and get to bed, I guess. Thanks for taking me out. Well, coming out with me. I mean, going to the same movie as me?”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Right. Goodnight!” Stiles said with a laugh and started up the stairs. He knew Derek was watching him, at least out of the corner of his eye, to make sure Stiles made it up them without incident.

It took him a couple minutes but he made it and without feeling too winded once he reached the top. He quickly stripped and grabbed a towel. He usually didn’t shower this late at night but then again he didn’t usually go out these days so a shake up in the routine felt apt.

Once he was under the water he let his hands slip down his torso, almost without realizing it. He thought about how he mistook Derek coming towards him as an overture of… what? Affection? Wanting to be close? A _kiss_?

Ding ding ding!

Stiles looked down his body and felt a grin spread across his face.

“Hello there,” he whispered to himself, hoping Derek wasn’t listening in or that he couldn’t hear over the water. But seeing as this was Stiles’ first erection since waking up and he never even thought about his dick in that way since then, it was a rather momentous occasion.

Turns out that muscle memory is an awesome thing and that not even two years of sleep could make Stiles forget what he liked and how his body reacted. He wasn’t limber enough to do much more than slump against the wall and use some body wash to slick over himself.

He didn’t have to call up any particular images to help himself along. Just thought about the curve of Derek’s lips, the way his eyes looked when he got excited about something, how his hands were always strong and sure even when Derek’s thoughts weren’t. His scruff. His arms. His thick hair. And his _voice_.

It only took a couple short minutes and the resulting orgasm made Stiles’ legs shake in a way that he feared he’d fall in the shower and Derek would have to save him from drowning.

Stiles’ chest heaved as he watched the water and his come disappear down the drain. He felt as if he’d run a race. 

He was boneless in that truly satisfying way that made him forget his worries. He’d gotten two releases that night and he was incredibly pleased about both of them at that very moment. Biggest accomplishments since waking up and being able to walk without the cane? Fuck yeah.

Stiles shut the water off and climbed out of the tub on still-shaky legs. He gave his hair a couple passes with the towel before wrapping it around his waist and walking out of the bathroom.

He almost ran smack into Derek who seemed to be waiting for him outside the door.

“Whoa!” Stiles said as he took a step back and stumbled a bit. Derek’s hand thrust out and caught his elbow immediately, righting him before Stiles could fall into the wall.

“Sorry, but I could hear your heart rate accelerate. Are you okay?”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open for a split second, then he shook his head and smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. I almost slipped in the shower but caught myself at the last second so it was a kind of ‘life flashing’ moment, you know?”

Derek frowned, and squeezed Stiles arm that he was still holding. “I think you did too much tonight, we’ll take it easy tomorrow, okay? And get some sticky things for the tub.”

“Sticky things?” Stiles asked.

“You know, ducks or whatever.”

“Sticky ducks?”

Derek blushed a bit. “They help stop you from falling! The rental we were in in New York had some.”

Stiles laughed. “Okay. Big bad wolf wants ducks, we’ll get ducks.”

Derek frowned again and dropped Stiles’ arm. “Go to bed.” Derek disappeared into the guest room and closed the door on Stiles who was still laughing.

*****************

_It was back._

_Stiles just didn’t know what **it** was. _

_But it was here and it was pissed._

_**Been gone too long…** _

_“Sorry to disappoint you,” Stiles whispered back, balancing on the balls of his feet and looking around himself with jerky head movements. He felt like something was going to jump out at him at any second. Just reach out and **take** him. The fog was back but thicker this time. _

_It surrounded Stiles and almost made it hard for him to breathe. It crept under his clothes and into the marks on his back from before. It stung but Stiles took a deep breath and didn’t react._

_**So young for such a fighter…** _

_“It happens,” Stiles replied._

_**You don’t have to be so strong, you know. You could let it all go and be at peace. So quiet and still…** _

_“Sounds like a lot of euphemisms for **dead**. So, uh, thanks for the offer but no thanks?” Stiles said with a stilted laugh._

_**Soon you won’t have a choice. You’re lucky to get this offer now…** _

_“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” Stiles said loudly, getting angry at whatever it was trying to scare him._

_**I’ve never been more sure about anything in my…** _

_“What? Life? Existence? Span of hellfire?”_

_**You’ll soon find out…** _

_“Can’t wait,” Stiles muttered._

_Growling._

_Deep, loud and creeping growling._

_It seemed to twist and turn with the wisps of fog that trailed around Stiles’ body until it was wrapped around him like a blanket. He fought to cover his ears with his hands because it was so loud and he was so scared and he didn’t want this anymore, he didn’t want to have something stalking him anymore._

_Why was it after him? What was it? He needed to know but didn’t want it at once._

_“No more,” Stiles whispered._

_The growling got louder._

_Seemed to be mocking him._

_**“No more!** Stiles screamed, finally giving in to clapping his hands over his head._

*****************

“No! No more! Stop, stop, stop!”

“Stiles! Stiles, _wake up_!”

There was a sharp slap across Stiles’ face and suddenly he was awake in his bed, curling into himself with his hands over his ears.

Derek was in bed with him, crouched beside him with a terrified look on his face. Stiles slowly sat up straight and moved his hands down slowly. 

There was no growling.

No fog.

No marks on his back.

It was a dream

Yeah, a dream.

Stiles swallowed hard as he looked into Derek’s eyes. 

“How long was I doing that?”

“I’ve been trying to wake you for almost five minutes,” Derek said in a low voice, still wide-eyed. “I almost called Deaton.”   
Stiles gulped audibly and realized his heart was pounding like a racehorse. He covered his chest with one hand and took deep breaths to try to calm down. He could easily have a panic attack if he wasn’t careful and the look on Derek’s face told Stiles he wasn’t prepared for that on top of everything else. 

“Sorry,” Stiles offered.

“What the hell was that, Stiles?” Derek asked, voice rising. 

Stiles shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Fuck you it’s nothing. What’s going on? That wasn’t a regular nightmare,” Derek shot back.

“It’s just a dream, okay? I’ve just been having… dreams.”

“For how long?”

Stiles was quiet and took his pulse on his neck, breathing deeply as it slowed. Finally he said, “Since the coma.”

“You started having nightmares after the coma?” Derek asked to clarify.

“No. While I was in the coma.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Well, I’m an impossible fucking guy cause it happened.”

“Tell me,” Derek demanded. Stiles wanted to make a ‘rude’ comment but when he saw the freaked out look still on Derek’s face and how much easier it would be for him to know and for Stiles to get it off his chest…

“I don’t know how to explain it. It started out with a lot of fog. I couldn’t see anything. It was like that scene from _Harry Potter_.” Derek gave Stiles a blank look. “You know, in the last movie?”

“I didn’t see it.”

“Jesus Christ, we’re putting that on the to-do list,” Stiles told him.

“That’s not part of your rehab,” Derek replied, confused.

“ _Your_ rehab. Your pop culture rehab, at least when it comes to movies, okay?”

“Stiles,” Derek replied flatly. “Back to the point.”

“Right. Anyway. Fog and white clothes and yada yada. It was very, I dunno, ethereal, I guess? And then my mom was there.”

Derek’s voice was sharp. “Your mom?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t like a white light, crossing over kinda meet and greet, you know?”

“No.”

“Basically it wasn’t any _Touched By an Angel_ shit, okay? No halos, no choir of heavenly voices.”

“Okay,” Derek replied slowly, trying to follow.

“She was there to warn me, I think. It’s hard to remember but when I’m in the dreams it comes back to me a little. It feels like they went on forever and the fog or whatever, it kept disappearing. Like it wasn’t really fog but some sort of cover? I don’t even know. But she was there to warn me.”

“About what?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know if she really knew. It’s probably just my subconscious playing with me. All the stuff that happened right before my accident screwed with my brain, made me hallucinate or whatever.”

“Hallucinations happen when you’re awake,” Derek added absently, clearly working through what Stiles was telling him.

“ _Whatever_. Either way, give me a warning for something coming in Beacon Hills is like telling a shitty dodgeball player to duck, you know? I mean, before the accident what Scott, Allison and I did pretty much opened the gates of hell to this place! I was probably feeling some guilt or worry about that.”

“Is that it for the dreams? Your mom warns you in some mist?”

Stiles played with his sheets, worrying them with his fingers. “No,” he finally said quietly.

“What happens after?”

“She goes away. She finally touches me and she goes away. But something else is there. There’s no fog and I’m in the woods. Alone. And it’s dark and cold and I’m freaked out as hell.”

“Why?”

“I’m not alone.”

“You are but you’re not?”

“Exactly.”

“Uh…”

“Dreams aren’t supposed to make sense, Derek. It’s like something’s watching me. The nematon?”

“It’s in your dream? Then and now?” Derek asked sharply.

“Yeah. And it… it doesn’t feel very happy with me? I think.”

“Who else is there with you?”

“I don’t know. I seriously have no idea. And I don’t know if it’s a ‘who’. It could be a what.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it attacked me.”

Derek inhaled roughly. “In your dream?”

“Yes, in my dream, you weirdo. Do you see anything attacking me right now?”

“Stiles, just because something isn’t physically in the room with you doesn’t mean they can’t actually attack you,” Derek replied.

Stiles’ mouth dropped open and he stared at Derek, confused. “ _What_?”

“Dreams are often not just dreams. They can be interpreted different ways, obviously, but sometimes they’re… more.”

“More? You just gave me shit for being Captain Crypto, dude.”

“I don’t know how better to explain it. Laura would tell me stories when I was growing up about people or creatures that could get to you when you were asleep. Kind of a fucked up Sandman or something,” Derek said.

“Are you sure you weren’t just being tricked by your older sister?” Stiles asked sarcastically.

“That’s what I thought because it really freaked me out so I asked my mom. First she yelled at Laura for trying to scare me but then she confirmed what Laura said. There are things out there with enough power to work their way into your life through your dreams. To make you _have_ dreams. I don’t know if they can _kill_ you in your dreams but your mind is pretty much defenceless while you’re asleep so it’s easy pickings. If you have a reason for someone to want to get into your head, that is,” Derek added.

“So there’s a Beacon Hills version of Freddie Krueger hunting me down? Which begs the question of why the _hell_ would anyone want to get into _my_ head?”

“Asking that a lot myself,” Derek replied drily. Stiles smacked him on the arm but it, of course, didn’t even make Derek flinch.

“But seriously, if this is more than just weird but regular dreams why would someone want to get into my head? Why would they want to hurt me like this? I don’t have anything-no powers, no supernatural strength or speed, no knowledge on national secrets or where the aliens are hidden at Area 51 or who the second shooter on the Grassy Knoll was,” Stiles rattled off while flailing his hands. Derek caught them between his hands and held them so Stiles would calm down.

“I don’t know right now but maybe we’ll give Deaton a call in the morning to see what’s going on, okay?”

Stiles nodded reluctantly, then looked down at his hands, still wrapped in Derek’s. “I, uh. I don’t really want to dream again tonight.”

Derek looked around the room, then jumped off the bed and grabbed Stiles’ laptop. “That _Harry Potter_ movie?”

“Have you seen the first part?” Stiles asked, accepting it from Derek’s hands.

Derek looked at him blankly. “Of what?”

“Okay. Have you seen _any_ of the _Harry Potter_ movies?”

“No.”

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles muttered. He moved over in his bed and patted the space beside him that Derek just looked at, confused. “Get in, and get comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”

“How long is this movie?”

“The first one is a couple hours.”

“The first one? How many are there?”

“Eight. Now get into bed.”

Derek hesitated for a moment more before Stiles opened his mouth again and Derek held up his hands silently. He crawled into Stiles’ bed and sat stiffly beside him, with the covers barely over him. Stiles settled in beside him with a pillow propped behind his back, then wiggled around until their sides were pressed against each other while the movie started.

By the time Hagrid showed up on the island to get Harry and take him to Hogwarts Stiles felt himself fading fast. He was going to tell Derek to leave the movie on even if he fell asleep and to not let him dream but the last thing he remembered was his head falling against Derek’s shoulder and the door to that tiny island cottage blowing down.

*****************

“So what’s the word, doc? Am I going crazy?” Stiles asked the next afternoon as he clamoured up onto the exam table in Deaton’s office. All it took was a snort from Derek and Stiles’ finger shot up in warning. “No remarks from the peanut gallery.”

Neither of them had spoken about waking up together in Stiles’ bed that morning, wrapped around each other. Stiles had his head on Derek’s chest while Derek’s arms were wrapped around him protectively like he was trying to shield him from more night terrors.

“You’re not crazy, Stiles,” Deaton said. “But-“ he continued, over Stiles’ “Ha!”. “There’s something very disturbing happening here. You’re not dreaming.”

“I’m sure as shit not learning how to clog dance while I’m asleep, so what do you call it?” Stiles asked.

“I believe you’re channeling someone or something. Or, rather, they’re channeling you while your defences are down. While in the coma your defences were at their lowest point, likely in your life, and now the closest thing is while you’re sleeping.”

“Channeling him?” Derek questioned.

“It’s kind of like psychic projection, I guess would be the best way to describe it. Someone is basically putting themselves in your mind.”

“Why would someone go to all the trouble of hologramming into _my_ mind, though? What, for shits and giggles someone wants me to imagine I’m seeing my dead mother while I’m at death’s door?” Stiles asked, growing angry. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re right. I don’t think your mother was the same thing.”

Stiles sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re giving this to me in bits and pieces and I’m not getting any clearer on this.”

“Once a few years ago we discussed the properties of mountain ash, do you remember that?”

“Sure. Still really surprised I managed to make it around that building with what I had.”

“I’m not. There’s a reason why I gave you that task, Stiles.”

“Because I was the human?”

“If that were the case I could have asked Allison, who would have been better able to protect herself.”

“Hey!”

“I gave you the task, Stiles, because of your heritage and who you are.” 

“A dork with an unpronounceable first name?” Stiles deflected as his breathing sped up. He knew something was coming, something that he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to handle. Derek stepped closer to Stiles, close enough that Stiles could feel his body heat, a comforting warmth.

“Your mother and I were friends, did you know that? We would often meet and discuss herbal remedies that could be used in place of traditional medicine and drugs, exchanged seeds for roots and herbs, share literature and so on.”

“Okay?” Stiles said slowly.

“You had enough mountain ash to go around that building for the same reason your mother would have. You both have an innate connection with everything around you but especially nature and items used in otherworldly circumstances.”

“Uh.”

“Do you remember the token you took into the tub with you when you, Allison and Scott made your sacrifices?”

“Yeah, Dad’s badge.”

“There you go,” Deaton said with a nod, as if that explained everything.

“What? That doesn’t make sense, they had tokens, too!” Stiles protested.

“Scott is a werewolf, which means he’s already connected and Allison’s token was a silver bullet with ceremonial connection to the supernatural. Your token was the only one that had nothing to do with any of it but your belief in the connection. That piece of metal that was crumpled beyond recognition, that you unfolded as best you could and gripped so tightly because it represented your father- _that_ is what you are, Stiles!”

“I’m… belief?”

“You are the embodiment of ‘if I think it, I make it’. You are not merely the spark needed to make fire, you can _be_ the fire, with enough force of will,” Deaton explained excitedly.

“If I want it enough why wasn’t I popular and dating the hottest people in school in high school, then?” Stiles asked drily, as his anxiety level evened out.

“Even if you don’t believe you know that’s not how it works. You have real power, Stiles, if you work on it. And clearly someone else believes it.”

“That’s what I need to know! Who or what so I can explain that, no, I’m just Stiles. Plain old Stiles who hit his head and fell asleep for a long time,” Stiles exclaimed, jumping off the table. 

“When you saw your mother in your dreams,” Deaton started slowly. 

“Yeah?”

“Did she look like you remembered her? The way she was before she passed away?”

Stiles stopped moving and felt his breath catch in his chest. “No. She looked…”

“How?”

“Like. Like she should have if she’d lived,” Stiles said in a whisper, the realization hitting him full-force. “She looked older. The way I’ve never actually seen her. She had long hair again. And wrinkles—laugh lines! How—how?”

“That was your mother warning you, Stiles. And you are your mother’s son. Someone knows about you and whether you want to believe in yourself or not you have to protect yourself at the very least. Even after the mountain ash incident I wasn’t sure if you had the same gift as your mother but now that the nematon has become involved in your life and now your dreams, well. I think your mother would be proud of you, Stiles.”

Stiles barely heard Deaton as he spoke but he felt Derek step behind him and find his hand. Stiles squeezed tight and didn’t want to let go.

*****************

Derek and Stiles didn’t talk about what they discovered at Deaton’s. They didn’t tell John where they went, about Stiles’ dreams or anything that was going on. Derek could feel Stiles close himself off about everything going on with him and didn’t push. Luckily there were no more dreams. 

Probably because Stiles woke up every hour and couldn’t allow himself a proper sleep which neither of them, again, mentioned. 

They worked on Stiles’ physical rehab and his work for the GED and avoided everything else. Didn’t leave the house for anything but appointments, didn’t go to the movies, just didn’t.

Stiles’ phone rang on a random afternoon the next week while he and Derek were working out math logic problems. Stiles could deal with regular math, even calculus, but there was something about the trains going differing speeds and meeting up in Des Moines or Utah that always made him frustratingly angry.

Derek patiently worked out the different techniques he could use to solve the different problems but by the time his phone rang Stiles let out a grateful, “Oh thank fuck!” and answered it quickly.

Derek frowned and gave Stiles a disapproving look that reminded Stiles eerily of his teachers in school and grinned in return.

“Scott! Buddy, how’s it going? What’s going- What? Derek? Yeah, right here,” Stiles said into the phone, casting a suspicious eye at Derek who looked on passively.

“You want to talk to Derek,” Stiles said flatly. He sank back into the couch cushions and held out the phone dejectedly. Derek accepted it without a word, then stood up and walked to the kitchen.

“Scott?”

Stiles got up, smoother than he’d been able to in a while, and hovered outside the kitchen in a way that couldn’t really be considered _eavesdropping_ even though he totally was.

“An omega? I’m not sure, it’s been a while,” Derek continued the call. He looked over his shoulder and caught sight of Stiles peeking around the corner totally _not eavesdropping_ , frowned and went out the back door, shutting it firmly behind him.

Stiles grumbled to himself and pressed himself against the window to watch Derek in the backyard, pacing. It’d been a while but Stiles remembered that tight posture and tense hunch from what he now knew as years before.

Pack problems.

Stiles could guess at what was being talked about on _his_ phone. Isaac was the only pack member in town who could deal with any issues. Having Derek around was a bonus a the moment, even if he wasn’t officially pack. He _was_ and he had the experience of being an alpha behind him. 

Stiles wasn’t stupid, after all.

He also realized that the reason Derek was taking this call in the backyard was either because he didn’t think Stiles should know what was going on or because Scott specifically requested Stiles not know.

The latter was obviously a more hurtful idea. What felt like mere weeks ago to Stiles he had been Scott’s Yoda. His go-to. The one who helped with the research and the looking and the battles and _everything_.

He gets knocked in the head and suddenly he isn’t _good enough_ any more?

Derek walked back to the door while Stiles was silently fuming in his own thoughts. Derek rapped gently on the glass with his knuckles and gave Stiles a small smile that absolutely did _not_ shoot straight down to his toes he was _pissed_ , dammit.

Stiles stepped back and opened the door for Derek to let him in. Derek gave Stiles his phone back and headed back to the living room where the GED prep material was.

Stiles followed silently and sat down in his spot for a few minutes, picking up his pencil and shaking it back and forth in his hand before he finally burst out, “What the hell did you two talk about?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t private conversations, I don’t know? Private?”

“Not when they’re on _my_ phone!” Stiles shot back.

“It’s just stuff,” Derek replied dismissively. 

“Pack stuff?” Stiles pushed.

Derek sighed and put the prep book down that he was using to help Stiles study. “If Scott wanted you to know he’d have told you, okay? It’s just stuff you don’t need to worry about right now. He wants you to work on getting better.”

Stiles pressed his lips together and bit back more questions and a demand to know what was going on _right the hell now_.

There was more than one way to find out what he wanted to know.

*****************

“John?” Derek asked later that night, approaching Stiles’ dad at the kitchen table while he read the newspaper with a cup of decaf coffee and Stiles watched the baseball game in the living room.

“Yeah?”

“Just wondering if you were planning on being around for a couple hours? I have to do some errands tonight,” Derek asked with utmost politeness.

John waved his hand with a small smile. “Sure, son. I’m sure Stiles would love to have his old man around to cater to his every whim.”

Stiles snorted from the next room. “Pretty sure you gave up on that the moment I could talk.”

“Talk _back_ maybe,” his dad shot back.

“Sounds about right,” Stiles heard Derek add and his father laugh.

“Go do whatever you need to do,” John told him and Derek left the room.

Stiles figured that Derek would be looking for him in the living room as he passed through and would give him a comment about staying out of trouble or maybe nothing at all about trouble in general so as not to draw Stiles’ attention.

But he didn’t because Stiles wasn’t there. 

Once Derek stepped out onto the front step he saw Stiles leaning, instead, on the railing and waiting for him.

“Go back inside,” Derek said firmly. Stiles shook his head. “Stiles.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Stiles mocked, which made Derek’s eyebrows draw together and his eyes narrow.

“You don’t scare me anymore, sourwolf. I want to know what’s going on. I’ve already worked it out on my own so it doesn’t matter, I’ll know anyway,” Stiles said with a shrug.

“Great, so I don’t need to tell you anything,” Derek said with a growl as he tried to step around Stiles but he grabbed Derek’s arm and wouldn’t let go.

“I didn’t want to pull this card but I was in a coma for _two years_ for this pack. I think I’ve earned the right to know when things are going on and be there when I could help,” Stiles said as he pulled himself to his full height, which was as tall, if not taller than, Derek. Derek blinked back as Stiles stared into his eyes without faltering.

“What could you help with?” Derek asked.

“Eating your curly fries,” Stiles replied innocently before he damn-near bounced up the stairs to open the front door enough to stick his head back into the house. “I’m going with Derek and we’re going to get some food and maybe see a movie! I’m sprung, don’t wait up!”

Without waiting for his father’s response, which Derek could hear was a half-wary, “Okay…” Stiles was back down the stairs and across the driveway to Derek’s rented SUV. Derek sighed and unlocked the car with the fob before following.

*****************

Stiles did, indeed, help Derek eat his curly fries. Well, Derek pretty much figured they were actually _Stiles’_ curly fries in disguise since Derek said he wasn’t a big fan of them, anyway. He was pretty happy with the double bacon cheeseburger he ordered instead, though, and finished that off quickly while Stiles picked at the fries in the bottom of their bag.

“So what’s this about, anyway?” Stiles asked around a mouthful of potato, gesturing to a warehouse in the industrial part of town.

“Guess there’s some omega in town, possibly just passing through but there’s been some random attacks on joggers and hikers, too. Nothing concrete to connect anything just yet but Isaac thought he smelled something off about the last attack site,” Derek explained, resigned to being unable to hide anything from Stiles now.

“The _last_ attack? How many have their been?” Stiles asked.

“Three so far over the past week and a half. Some of them have been just on the outskirts of town and the jurisdiction of the police so the connection hasn’t been fully made yet. Isaac only learned of all this during the last attack and then there was a report of the omega around these parts.”

“Anyone seen it around? Him? Her?”

“Him,” Derek supplied.

“Him,” Stiles repeated. “This report of him around, was it reputable?”

“I guess? From what Scott says, anyway. He wouldn’t have asked me to look into this if he wasn’t sure.”

“I guess.”

A few minutes passed with only the sound of Stiles crunching on fries filling the SUV. Derek watched the building like a hawk, barely blinking. Stiles pulled out his phone and played some Candy Crush (didn’t take him very long to get addicted to that once he woke up) and enjoyed the moment. 

He felt more at peace sitting in Derek’s mom-mobile waiting for something or nothing at all to happen then he had since waking up. It was familiar and comforting.

“You’re gonna rot your brain with those games,” Derek said a few minutes later.

“Eh, if that car accident didn’t kill it nothing will,” Stiles replied with a shrug. “And it’s scary how much I’m _not_ joking about that.”

“I believe it,” Derek replied. There was silence between them while Derek watched the building and Stiles ate. 

Finally Stiles spoke up. “So what did you do in New York?”

“What?”

“You were there for a couple years, right? And you still kind of _are_ since you’re just back to help me. I mean… are you planning on going back?”

Derek looked like he was going to say something but then closed his mouth and kind of hummed under his breath. “I don’t know.”

Stiles felt his heart beat with an odd thump with that admission but avoided Derek’s gaze that shot over to him. “What do you mean?”

“New York has always been-“ Derek stopped suddenly and pressed his lips together with his brow furrowed. “It’s not-hmm.”

“Just spit it out however it comes, I’ll probably understand,” Stiles offered and he was telling the truth. He was starting to get the way Derek spoke and how frustrated he was when he couldn’t always come up with the best way to explain what he meant.

“New York is pain. Always pain. I thought this time would be different but.”

“Running doesn’t solve problems,” Stiles supplied and Derek nodded.

“Cora moved on, you know? She’s at school and finding out what she wants to do with herself.”

“So… what do you want to do with _your_ self?” Stiles asked.

Derek sighed. “I have no idea.”

“Want to go to school? Study something? Try a new city?”

Slowly, Derek shook his head. “I don’t think so. As much as I hate what’s happened here Beacon Hills _is_ home. I can’t deny that. I’ve been thinking of maybe trying to look at places? And at this rate I’m never getting out,” he said drily, looking over at Stiles.

Suddenly Stiles reached out and gripped Derek’s arm tightly and forced Derek to look at him. “You know I appreciate this, right? That you being here has been one of the better things since I woke up?”

“High praise coming from you,” Derek tried to say lightly, jokingly.

“I mean it,” Stiles said seriously. “You’re not just helping me but my dad. And you’re keeping me from going out of my mind with boredom. Plus, you … you’re the only one around, you know?”

“Not because they don’t want to be,” Derek replied, knowing Stiles was talking about Scott.

“Yeah, I know. But the point stands. You’re here. And that means a lot to me, man.”

Derek was quiet for a few minutes before he said softly, “You’re welcome.”

Stiles let Derek’s arm go and sat back to finish his curly fries, reflecting on how weird that conversation would have been two years earlier. Didn’t matter now, though. Had to be said anyway because it was the truth. 

"Scarier part is that this is the most functional relationship I've had in a while," Stiles muttered, mostly to himself.  
"It's not a relationship," Derek replied dumbly.  
"Okay, pathetic instead of scary. Better?" Stiles snapped back, realizing he’d said it out loud and panicking a bit. Derek seemed confused and wasn’t sure how to respond, plus he could obviously hear Stiles’ heart beating hard and quick in his chest and wisely chose not to say anything else.  
A few seconds passed as Stiles chewed on his thumbnail before Derek spoke.  
"Do you want it to be?"  
Stiles whipped his head around to stare in stunned disbelief for a moment before all hell broke loose.  
From the buildings on the side of the street Stiles and Derek were staked out on a man ran out into the street, screaming his head off. In the distance Stiles and Derek could both hear the sound of growling. The man in the street heard it, too, and kept running, straight to the warehouse he definitely didn’t want to be headed towards.

Derek shoved his car door open as he reached over and shoved Stiles back against his seat with his hand. “Stay _here_ ,” Derek said in a rough voice, as his face was already changing and his blue eyes glowed in the dark of the interior.

Stiles didn’t get a chance to reply or argue before Derek slammed the car door and was running after the man who was already inside the building.

Seconds later the growling from the direction the man came from grew louder and Stiles sank down in his seat. He could see over the dash and watched as not just one werewolf, but two tore past in the same direction as the man and Derek.

“This is _not_ good,” Stiles muttered to himself. He found himself weighing the pros and cons of following even as he was getting out of the car and pulling the trunk hatch open to find anything that could be used as a weapon.

“It’s not a bat but it’ll do,” Stiles mumbled to himself as he found a tire iron and gently pushed the hatch closed.

He skirted along in the shadows, careful to stay out of view until he found a door to enter by. It was dim inside as Stiles stepped through and he kept to the wall for guidance, running his hand along the metal surface lightly to keep his bearings.

It was eerily quiet for a place where an epic werewolf battle should have been taking place. Stiles couldn’t hear any sounds of fighting, anyone crying out or even footfalls from running through the building to escape, if that’s what the guy being chased was trying to do. 

It all felt suspiciously like—

“It’s a trap, Stiles!” 

Stiles ran towards Derek’s voice because, well, because he’d probably be one of the first ones to die in a real horror movie but fuck if he wouldn’t go down trying. He wasn’t going to leave Derek there on his own.

Stiles skidded around some pallets and found Derek being held by one werewolf while two others, the guy and a girl, stood by their sides, ready if Derek was to lash out. It looks like he already got a few good swipes in on them, from the gashes and stains on their clothes. 

“Damn, I always fall for the helpless human trick,” Stiles deadpanned. 

“Just what we were thinking,” one of them, the guy who was pretending to be the victim, piped up.

“Oh, I’m not helpless,” Stiles replied, and the werewolves laughed. “A bit under prepared? Sure. But I’m anything but helpless.”

“If you think that,” the girl nodded to Stiles’ tire iron. “Will save you, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Oh, I don’t need it to save me. Just to distract you guys,” Stiles said, then whipped it across the room at the werewolf holding Derek. Even with the reflexes of a werewolf Stiles knew someone would react and sure enough, two of them reached for it before it hit them but it gave Derek enough leeway to slip his captor’s grip and sink his claws into his belly.

The were howled and clutched at his midsection while Derek tried to get away. The female grabbed him again, though, and retaliated with a swipe at Derek’s back. Derek grunted but kept going. 

“Get him!” The injured one screamed at the other two as Derek ran towards Stiles, grabbed his arm and dragged him along.

“Okay, we’re running,” Stiles said as he started running to keep up with Derek and wouldn’t get dragged along behind.

“We’re out numbered, idiot!” Derek snarled. “Why did you come after me?”

“Cause you were being held by three other werewolves, moron!” Stiles spit back. 

Suddenly Derek shoved Stiles against a wall in a dark corner and clapped a hand over his mouth. He pressed close against Stiles, trying to keep him shielded. Stiles could hear the scrabble of claws coming closer and stilled, wishing he could somehow cover the sound of his thumping heart.

Derek’s body was tight against Stiles: chest to chest, arm to arm, leg to leg, groin to- nope, not going there right now, Stiles. 

Stiles strained to hear anything else, wondering how much more Derek could hear and when the coast would be clear.

Turned out, it wouldn’t be.

“Here you are, my little piggies!” 

Derek was yanked away from Stiles and backwards, into the waiting grasp of the female were. Derek snarled and tried to fight her but she delivered a swift kick to the back of his knees and sent him to his knees. Stiles took a step forward but Derek growled at him, a warning to stay back.

“Stupid piglet,” she laughed. “I’ll rip your arms from your skinny body if you don’t obey.”

“Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin, bitch,” Stiles snarked back, unable to stop himself. Despite the situation Derek rolled his eyes. 

“We don’t need him Theresa, it’s time to get rid of him,” the were who Derek wounded said from behind her. 

“But he’s funny, Jed. Don’t you think?” Theresa replied, staring at Stiles with a smirk that showed her fangs.

“No,” Jed replied flatly. “I think I want to get this fucking job over and get the hell out of here. Toby!”

The victim-cum-village stepped forward, twirling Stiles’ tire iron in his hand. “Bet you wish you had this right now, huh?”

Stiles just shrugged. He didn’t have a come back for what would probably end up his demise. 

He probably should’ve worked on that.

“Get it over with, we need to get back,” Jed told Toby. Toby nodded and started stalking towards Stiles with the tire iron in his hands and his fangs bared. Behind him Derek struggled again, fighting to get free from Theresa but Jed stepped forward and punched him on the side of the head, sending Derek sprawling on the ground and he and Theresa started to kick him, keeping him down.

Stiles started to panic then and there. He’d survived so many other situations, managed to find a way out of life-threatening things before but in that very moment he knew.

He was dead. Not gonna come back dead. No werewolf bite, no last-second save from Scott or his Dad bursting through the doors with his guns blazing. Or, better yet, Mr. Argent with his wolfsbane bullets. 

Stiles closed his eyes and gulped back the panic, tried to calm himself because he didn’t want to give this pack of third-rate thugs the satisfaction of tasting his fear. 

Stiles breathed in deep, inhaling the scent of metal and motor oil, could practically taste the sour breath of his soon-to-be killer, absorbed the sound of Derek’s body being pummelled with footfalls and his soft grunts that even his human ears could hear despite Derek’s attempt to muffle them. He could hear the whine in Derek’s voice, his struggle to get up and try to save them, to get Stiles out of harm’s way. 

He could feel Derek’s desperation, over his own. 

“No.”

Stiles exhaled and opened his eyes, zeroing in on Toby who was inches from him and there was saliva dripping from his fangs. His eyes were ice blue as he stared down at Stiles, face coming ever closer.

Stiles reached deep and pushed _out_ as he screamed, “ _NO!_ ” and then the whole damn world disappeared.

*****************

_The woods were freezing cold with a wind that caused the leaves and small branches to whip Stiles in the face. His skin stung from their slaps and he ran to try to find shelter._

_In the distance there was a howl, loud and angry and long._

_“Shit,” Stiles whispered. He ran faster, trying to find shelter or a tree to climb or **something** he thought could be used as cover. _

_He stopped and looked around the darkness, completely confused and lost. The howling continued, further away than before but just as angry._

_A warm hand reached out and settled on his shoulder. Stiles felt like he would normally run, would yelp and flail but he knew._

_“Mom!”_

_He turned around and threw his arms around her, knowing it was her, well and truly._

_“Wawrzyniec, I’m sorry,” his mother said into his chest, burrowing her face there now that he was taller than her._

_“For what?”_

_The howling continued, closer this time._

_“If I’d had more time, if I’d known…”_

_“Known what? What’s going on?”_

_“You’ll see soon enough but right now you have to wake up! You have to move and protect yourself. It’s started!”_

_“What has?”_

_“Everyone will know about you now, even yourself! You’ll know everything but so will everyone else!”_

_Stiles shook his head. “I’m so confused, mom! Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”_

_“I can’t, I’m not allowed! I’m not even allowed to be here but I fought! And now you must, as well!”_

_“Against what? What’s coming? What is that?” Stiles asked quickly, nodding his head at the howling._

_“That is what you must figure out. It’s shrouded in darkness, even to me. But I know you can protect yourself and the people around you,” his mother explained._

_“Dad?”_

_“And Derek.” His mother smiled softly then and brushed his hair away from his face. “You are lucky to have people who care about you so much. But sometimes that can be used against them. And you, if you’re not careful.”_

_“I don’t **understand**!” Stiles cried desperately. He ran his hands down his mother’s arms and gripped her hands tightly. “Please, you have to tell me!”_

_The howling was too close, moving closer._

_“Wawrzyniec, you have to wake up! Now!”_

_“Mom! Wh-“_

_“Stiles! Wake up!”_

*****************

“Stiles! Come on! Wake up!”

Stiles felt a sharp pain on his face and gasped as he opened his eyes. “Ow, you fucker!”

“Jesus Christ, Stiles!” Derek cried. “Are you okay?”

“After you hit me with your giant meaty hands? Yes!” Stiles yelled back. He tried to sit up but Derek kept him laying down. Stiles looked up at the ceiling and wondered why everything was so dark.

“Stiles, what the fuck happened?”

“What?”

“What did you do?”

Stiles blinked and slapped Derek’s hands away so he could sit up. When he did his mouth dropped open.

The werewolves were gone.

Half the fucking warehouse was gone, the rest was on fire.

Sirens in the distance.

“What the fuck,” Stiles breathed.

*****************

Derek helped Stiles to the car because his legs didn’t seem to want to work right and sped them out of the area before the cops could reach the industrial area. He drove fast and precise, directing them to the parking lot of a motel on the complete other side of town before he stopped, shut the car off the turned to Stiles.

“What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know! You tell me! I was passed out, remember?” Stiles replied, his voice rising. He was growing more agitated on the drive, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“You don’t remember what happened when Toby came at you with the tire iron?”

“Obviously, dude!” Stiles yelled. “You have to tell _me_!”

“You destroyed them,” Derek said, flat and low. 

“Me? How?” Stiles gaped at Derek, as his heart pounded in his ears.

“I don’t know. I just saw the tire iron heat up and it must have burned Toby-“

“Heat up? What do you mean?”

“It turned red, like a branding iron. Toby screamed and dropped it on the ground and grabbed his arm but it was too late.”

“Why, what happened?” Derek hesitated. “ _What happened?_ ”

“His body burned from the inside out. And then it spread. He reached out for Theresa and Jed and it was like it floated from him to them. They just… disappeared. And when they exploded—“

“ _Exploded_?” Stiles screeched. 

“Basically? I don’t know how to describe it, Stiles. I was there but I don’t know what the fuck happened. What… what did you feel? Before you passed out?”

Stiles pressed his lips together and tried to think, tried to remember the moment when he lost track of what happened. He remembered Toby coming towards him while the other two attacked Derek, who was helpless. Derek who tried to protect him even while he was being beat up.

Toby killed an innocent. Toby wanted to kill him, to kill both of them. 

But no, they said they didn’t need “him”, they didn’t need Stiles. They needed Derek. 

Stiles didn’t realize he was starting to hyperventilate until Derek laid his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and jerked him out of his thoughts. And then he remembered.

“Mom!” Stiles exclaimed. Derek looked confused and shook his head. 

“What?”

“That’s what happened! It was like when I have my dreams, but this was my mom! I haven’t seen her since my coma. She was warning me about something.”

“You don’t know what, though, do you?”

“Of course not, that would make things too fucking easy! But she was seriously freaked and there was something after us, or her, I don’t know which. Something was coming, though. It was pissed and she was scared,” Stiles explained in a rush.

Derek sighed. “I think we need to make another visit to Deaton, as much as I hate to say it. But first we should find something to clean your face up.”

Stiles blinked, then pulled down the passenger visor and shoved the mirror open. He had scrapes and mild burns on his cheeks.

“Great, already lying to dad,” Stiles muttered.

“Why not tell him?” Derek suggested.

“Have you _met_ my dad? I know he’s aware of werewolves and stuff now but the last thing I want to do to him right after waking up after a two year coma is tell him I might have _blown people up_. And half a building. And that I’m possibly hallucinating.”

“Dreaming.”

“How would that sound to you if someone brought it up out of the blue after waking up from a coma?”

Derek considered this for a moment. “Point.”

“Exactly. So, for now, let’s see Deaton and find out what the hell is going on. And what’s wrong with me.”

“Stiles,” Derek said uneasily. “There’s nothing _wrong_ with you—“

“Tell me that next time I _don’t_ blow someone up, okay?” Stiles cut him off. 

Derek started the car and took Stiles to an all-night convenience store. Stiles went to the dingy bathroom to clean up while Derek sat in the car. His face wasn’t as bad as he feared but he was still going to have to come up with a story for his dad. 

When Stiles got back in the car Derek was clutching the steering wheel tightly and he was obviously tense.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked.

“They wanted me,” Derek said quietly. “You were only in danger because they wanted me.”

“You noticed that too, huh?” Stiles asked, trying to be light. “It’s not like a week goes by here in good ‘ole Beacon Hills that someone doesn’t want us all d-“

“Stiles this isn’t a joke!” Derek cut him off angrily. 

“Believe me, I know! I shouldn’t have to tell you how much I’m _not_ laughing about this!”

“Then you realize how serious this is and that I shouldn’t be around you,” Derek replied.

“Fuck you! You’re not running off again!”

“It’s not running off when I’m making sure you’re safe!”

“Don’t know if you remember this but I kind of flambé’d three werewolves just an hour ago! If anything you need to stay around and help me figure this out! I can take care of myself, from what it seems, but I need you here with me!” Stiles argued.

“You can go to Deaton and work with him on this thing. But as long as I’m around here you could get hurt!”

Stiles slumped back against his seat and buried his head in his hands. He felt Derek shift in his seat, as well, and the air between them eased, collapsed.

“Please,” Stiles said, words muffled by his hands. “Please don’t leave like this. Not now.”

“I can’t be a risk to you or your dad, Stiles,” Derek replied softly.

“What about you? Who’s gonna look out for you?” Stiles asked, looking at Derek intensely. “We can help each other.”

“Stiles…”

“Please? We can figure this out together,” Stiles pleaded. “If you leave now you might never find out who’s after you or what they want and you’ll be running forever.”

Derek pressed his lips together and sighed, a deep, weary sound that Stiles understood and could echo.

“Okay.”

Stiles nodded and like that it was decided. 

*****************

“That was you two?” Deaton asked the next day at the vet office. Together Derek and Stiles told the story about what happened at the warehouse, filling in the blanks each other had. 

“Well, Stiles to be more exact,” Derek said. Stiles raised a hand and waved it around with a shrug.

“And you don’t remember what happened?” Deaton asked.

“Not a thing. Just what was going on in my head.”

“Your mother appeared to you this time?”

“Yeah, first time since the coma. She was freaked, too.”

“Understandable,” Deaton replied. He crossed the room to a cupboard and started looking around for something while he mumbled to himself under his breath. Stiles looked to Derek who just shrugged and shook his head. 

“I’ve been looking into your condition since we last spoke but it’s been hard to track anything of substance down because your dreams aren’t a psychic vision. It seems that they’re more a conduit for something else to implant itself on your subconscious and given your state for the past couple of years it’s hard to pinpoint a cause beyond the nematon. I’ve never heard of it linking itself to anyone’s psyche so intensely that it’s manifesting in dreams. I can’t say it’s that, I can’t say it doesn’t have anything to do with the coma itself. It’s an interesting issue you’re having but it’s mystifying, to say the least. With the addition of your fire starting abilities it’s become a new layer of mystery to peel back.”

Derek and Stiles looked back at Deaton with blank expressions. 

“Basically I have no idea what’s going on with you, Stiles. I’ve been coming up with goose eggs.”

“Great. So I’ll just go practice firing steak without a bbq, then?”

“Actually, yes.”

“You _want_ him to play with fire?” Derek asked, incredulously. 

“Perhaps if you two can work out the trigger and then the response to what happened we can better pinpoint where Stiles’ newfound powers are coming from. And record any dreams you may be having. I’ll keep searching for what I can. I have some calls into contacts in Europe out that I’m waiting for a response from.” Deaton opened a drawer and pulled out a plastic bag and handed it to Stiles. “In the meantime you can use this to make simple protection charms to keep intruders at bay. Not as strong as mountain ash but it should make you aware of anyone with ill will against you who may be in the vicinity. You can even make one for your father and slip it into his vehicle or the pocket of his coat.”

Stiles accepted the bag gratefully and nodded. They said their goodbyes and left the clinic with nothing more than when they arrived.

*****************

“Your dad’s going to be home soon, can’t you just… I don’t know, use that as inspiration?” Derek asked two hours later in Stiles’ backyard.

“Inspiration?” Stiles asked testily. “Inspiration to kill someone with fire? Want me to use it on you?”

“Hey! I’m trying to help you out here, okay? I don’t have to be here seeing what makes you turn shit to charcoal! I just have to make sure your legs and arms work and that you can pass high school!”

“Fine, leave me alone, then!” Stiles yelled, walking up to Derek and getting in his face. “I don’t want to do this any more than you want to be here!”

“Fine, give up, I don’t care. You’re the one freaking out about this,” Derek yelled back.

“So you can leave, right? Talk about giving up!”

“Oh, fuck off, Stiles! You wanted me to stay, I stayed. Stop being a brat,” Derek spat back.

“A brat? I’m being a brat?” Stiles replied, going toe-to-toe with Derek. “You’re the one being a grade-a asshole!”

Derek and Stiles panted at each other, fists curled and red faced. Stiles knew Derek was tired and on edge and he was also exhausted and hungry. None of it made a good combo and the the past couple days was only making them edgier. But that didn’t mean Derek didn’t know how to work his way under Stiles’ skin and make Stiles want to pick right back at him.

Derek sighed and tried to move back but Derek grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in, smashing their mouths together. Not his smoothest move ever, considering their teeth clacked together and it kind of hurt but Derek caught on quick and softened the kiss.

Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand wrapped in his shirt and pulled it away, instead threading their fingers together while his other hand cupped Stiles’ jaw gently. Stiles followed Derek’s lead and tilted his head for easier access. He opened his mouth to Derek’s tongue and accepted it inside eagerly. Stiles wound his free hand in the hair at Derek’s nape, scratching his nails there and grinning against Derek’s mouth when he moaned at the feeling.

Finally Derek broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Stiles’ while they both gulped in air. They were pressed together in his backyard in full view of all of Stiles’ neighbours and he didn’t care one iota.

“So we weren’t really angry,” Stiles said with a smile.

“Guess not,” Derek replied, somewhat hesitantly.

Stiles pulled back and looked into Derek’s eyes. “Hey, don’t go all squirrely on me, okay? Don’t over think it.”

“Easier said than done,” Derek replied.

“I think I can help with that,” Stiles said with a smile, then leaned in and caught Derek’s lips again.

They made out in the backyard until Derek said he could hear John coming down the street in the cruiser. Stiles stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, noting to himself how puffy his lips felt. He smiled to himself and bumped Derek’s arm on the way in the house.

Not everything was bad, after all.

*****************

A couple days later after a physio appointment Derek dropped Stiles off at the house before heading to the store to pick a couple things up. Stiles thought about leaving him with a, ‘one of them better be lube’ comment but he figured that might be pushing things a little too far, too quickly.

They were hesitant around each other, for sure. But the making out made up for it. Derek didn’t have the best track record with romantic partners and Stiles didn’t have any so they kind of made a good, if awkward pair. 

But the making out. For real.

Stiles was smiling when he walked into the house.

But he wouldn’t be for long.

John was sitting in his favourite arm chair, reading the paper when Stiles walked through the door and kicked off his shoes. He said his to his father and was going to breeze into the kitchen when John spoke up.

“So if I said the words ‘half-burned warehouse in the industrial area’, would that mean anything to you?” John asked. Stiles swallowed hard and his mind raced, trying to weigh his options.

There weren’t many.

“Should it?” Stiles hedged.

“Goddammit, Stiles!” John yelled, throwing his newspaper to the floor. He stood up and crossed the room to his son, and gripped his arms tightly. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles replied, 100% truthful,

“Don’t lie-“

“I’m not! I really, truly don’t know what’s going on! It’s… something. But I have no idea what.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Stiles,” John replied. “I thought we were through with this, all the lying. I thought what once you woke up…”

“What?”

“That all this would be over.”

Stiles blinked. “All what?”

“The werewolf stuff! Getting involved in all the danger surrounding it! You’re constantly in harm’s way when you involve yourself in that world!”

“That world?” Stiles asked. “That world _is_ the world. It’s _our_ world, dad! I know I was hurt from being involved with it but you’re a cop! You think I’m not terrified every single day when you leave the house to go stop crime and confront criminals?” 

“Not the same thing, Stiles!”

“How?” Stiles pushed.

“I’m protecting people!”

“So am I! Do you know how many times I wanted to tell you everything when I was in high school? And how many times I knew I couldn’t because the more you knew the more danger you’d be in! It’s why Scott didn’t tell his mom and why we didn’t tell Lydia and Allison until we knew she was a hunter! Even her dad didn’t tell her about them until he had to! Everything I’ve done since Scott got bit was try to keep people from getting hurt!”

“At your own expense!” 

Stiles shrugged and gestured to John. “I learned by example.”

John shook his head and sighed. “Do you know _anything_ about the warehouse?”

“Um…”

“Stiles,” John said in a warning tone.

Stiles grimaced. “I might have been the one to burn it down?” 

“What? How? What were you doing there in the first place?”

“With my mind?” Stiles replied in a drawn out way. 

John blinked.

“Yeah, I know, it sounds weird. We don’t know how it’s happening or what’s going on.”

“We?” 

“Derek and I.”

“Derek’s known about this? Did _he_ have something to do with why you were there?”

“It’s not his fault!” Stiles protested. “I went in on my own, proverbial guns blazing. And if I didn’t he would have been kidnapped. Or wolf-napped, I’m not sure.”

“Is someone after him? Is someone after you, too?” John asked. He pulled something out of his pocket. “And does this have anything to do with what you _don’t_ know is going on?”

It was the protective charm Stiles made and slipped into his dad’s work jacket after Deaton gave him the supplies. 

“It does,” Stiles admitted. “I wanted to make sure you’d be as safe as I could make you.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about that if you’d just stay out of this stuff!” John cried. “Stiles, I love you and I love how strong and brave you’ve been with all of this, okay? But when you woke up from your coma I thought you’d see the right side of things and stop involving yourself in it! With Derek out of town and Scott and most of the pack at school the town has been blissfully quiet! All of a sudden he shows up and it all goes to hell again!”

“Isn’t it a little coincidental that all this started when I woke up?” Stiles threw back. John looked a bit surprised but shook his head.   
 “I don’t care. I want _you_ to be safe! And I don’t care how that has to happen, okay? I think Derek should leave.”

“I think you’re right,” Derek spoke up from behind them. John and Stiles both wheeled around and saw Derek standing in the living room doorway. He had his small duffle bag in one hand and his jacket already on.

Stiles realized Derek must not have gone to the store, overheard them talking and come to his own conclusions.

“Derek, no!” Stiles exclaimed. 

“Stiles, he’s right,” Derek replied. “It’s what I said after the stuff at the warehouse, remember? I think it’s best if I leave. Keep up with your physio and you should be fine. I’ve left the numbers of a couple private tutors I found for you to keep studying for the GED, okay?”

“No, not okay!” Stiles burst out. “This is bullshit!”

“Stiles, it’s for the best,” Derek replied. 

“You know he’s right, Stiles,” John piped up. 

“No, he’s not and he knows it! Goddammit, Derek! Don’t do this!”

“Bye Stiles,” Derek said quietly and walked out of the room. The front door opened and closed softly and just like that he was gone.

“I’ve always trusted you to do the right thing, Stiles. Please trust me in this,” John said behind Stiles. 

Stiles didn’t reply, just left the room and climbed the stairs to his room, closed the door and didn’t come out for the rest of the day.

*****************

“Stiles?” The next day Stiles waited until his father left for work and then called the only person he thought could help him. 

“Hey Isaac.”

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if, by some miracle, you have Cora’s contact info? Maybe Scott knows it or you know who could track it down?”

“Cora? Man, I don’t know. Wouldn’t Derek know?”

Stiles paused for a second, then replied. “He’s gone.”

“Oh? Went back to New York?”

“I think so, but I need to get in touch with Cora because she’ll have Derek’s mailing address. Need to send some stuff to him,” Stiles lied.

“Jeez, I don’t know. You could ask Scott, maybe, but I have no idea what it is, sorry. She didn’t exactly keep in touch after they left, you know?”

“Yeah, I figured. Thanks anyway,” Stiles said. 

“Hey, do you know if Derek figured out who the omega was that was hanging around? Haven’t picked up on a trail in a while, just wondering what to tell Scott,” Isaac asked.  
 “Uh, don’t know. He didn’t say. Later man!” Stiles said quickly and hung up.

No point in involving anyone else in his problems and possibly getting them hurt, too, after all.

*****************

Things between Stiles and his father were strained, to say the least. They had meals together when John wasn’t working and they discussed their days but Stiles’ wasn’t very exciting and John wouldn’t share too much about his cases. 

In actuality Stiles’ days consisted of his appointments at the hospital (for which John had to relinquish the keys to his truck since Derek wasn’t around to chauffeur him around anymore) and staking out a spot in Deaton’s office while the vet worked. Stiles mined Deaton for any info he could think of for how to get in touch with Derek and then he started working through the vet’s extensive collection of books so Stiles could research what was going on with him.

Obviously he wasn’t going to share any of that with his father.

John still told Stiles what hours he was working and let him know what time he’d be home, either by note in the kitchen or on the phone. Stiles knew he was trying and, deep down, all he was trying to do was protect Stiles. 

But it was too little, too late to expect him to stay out of the world that had become his life now.

Late on a Thursday afternoon Stiles was cross legged in his favourite chair in Deaton’s office-well, Deaton’s only chair-reading through a duty tome on Native American vision quests when his phone chirped that he got a text message. 

He checked it absently, barely registering it while he thought about what he was reading. 

_Wrkg late dt wry ab me_

Stiles shrugged and used the extra time to work through three more books before Deaton kicked him out.

“See you tomorrow!” Stiles called as he left and got into the truck. 

“I’m sure I will,” Deaton replied wryly.

On the way home Stiles remembered the text he’d gotten from his father and finally he thought about how weird it was that he’d _texted_ Stiles instead of calling. John was about as good with texting as he was avoiding the sweets brought in at the station.

He pulled over on the side of the road and dug his phone out to examine the message again. Usually his father would text out full sentences, not short hand. 

Either John was trying something new, someone had his phone or…

“Shit!” Stiles yelled. He could feel it in his gut, his father was in trouble. 

*****************

“What do you mean you dad is missing?” 

“Just what I said, Isaac! I got a text from my dad and I know he’s been taken by someone! He’s in trouble! I called the station and they told me he finished his shift over two hours ago!” Stiles yelled into his phone as he ran up his driveway. He could hear Isaac rustling around on his end of the call and he sounded groggy.

“I don’t think that means he’s been kidnapped, Stiles,” Isaac replied. Stiles let himself into the house and slammed the door behind himself, then ran into the kitchen to… well, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

“Isaac, you don’t understand! There are things happening you don’t know about!”

“What are you talking about, Stiles?” Isaac asked, suddenly sounding very alert. “Should I call Scott?”

“I don’t know, probably?”

“Have you heard from Derek?”

“No, and I doubt I will. He thought it would be better for him to go after the stuff at the warehouse,” Stiles admitted.

“Stiles, what are you talking about? What the hell is going on?”

“That omega you told Derek about turned out to be more than an omega. He set up a trap and shit went down, okay? And now Derek’s gone and I _swear_ my dad is in trouble, Isaac. You gotta believe me!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Okay, okay, I do! Let me call Scott and find out what he wants to do and then I’ll be right over, all right?”

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, okay. Thanks man. I’ll see if I can… I don’t know. Find som-“ Stiles pulled the phone away from his ear suddenly and cocked his head, thinking he heard something.

“Stiles?” Isaac’s voice was faraway and tinny but Stiles let his hand fall to his side and he took a few steps towards the living room. 

The front door was open.

Stiles totally remembers closing it.

Oh shit.

Stiles brought the phone back to his ear. “Isaac! I think someone-“

_Hello darkness, my old friend._    
***********

He woke up by the nematon.

“Not again,” Stiles muttered to himself as he lifted his head from where it was slumped on his chest.

Nighttime at the nematon. How original.

“Mom?” Stiles called out as he clamoured to his feet. There was a cool wind that made Stiles rub his arms briskly. He felt a bit unsteady and groggy but he started walking right away, then broke into a slow jog through the trees.    
“Mom!” Stiles kept calling for her because she had to be there. She _had_ to be.

Because there was the growling in the dark. It was close and it was coming closer.

Stiles tried to speed up, getting swiped in the face with twigs and the brush. It hurt more this time than he remembered.

“Mom!” Stiles shouted. “Please? Please come help me!”

And just like that the growling stopped. The wind ceased. All noise faded into silence and stillness. 

Stiles wheeled around, expecting to see his mother.

“Stiles.”

“Pet—.”

*****************

“You’re gonna give me a fucking concussion if you don’t stop knocking me out,” Stiles groaned when he woke up again, this time with his hands tied behind his back. “I could slip into a coma, you know,” he continued sarcastically.

“Wouldn’t want that happening again, now would we?” Peter asked from somewhere in the dark. Stiles blinked and tried to clear his head to see what was going on. There was a fire behind him, he could see some dancing light and could feel the slight heat.

Peter stepped out of the trees and smiled down at Stiles, if you could call it that.

“After all, it’s much easier getting to you when you’re awake. Even when you’re asleep and completely oblivious to what’s going on you’re stronger than you seem.”

“You’ve been in my dreams?” Stiles asked, feeling disgust wash over himself.

“Not intentionally at first, mind you. Part of it truly was luck of the draw. Your mother….”

“What about her?” Stiles snarled.

“She was a talented woman. I would imagine you’ve learned that by now?”

“You shut your face about my mother. And where’s my dad?”

Peter shrugged. “He’s quite all right, don’t worry. He’s being kept safe just like the others.”

“T-the others?’

Peter swept his hand behind Stiles’ line of sight so Stiles had to strain to see around. In front of the fire Stiles could see Derek laying on the ground, passed out, beside Cora, both bound and gagged. 

And a suspicious looking sack.

Stiles felt a chill spread through his body despite the heat from the fire. He turned back to Peter with dread creeping into his every pore. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles whispered.

“I’m taking back what’s mine,” Peter replied lowly.

Stiles snorted despite himself. “I really need to stop underestimating villains and their self-serving plots and schemes.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, whatever you have planned you’d better work it quick because once those two,” Stiles jerked his head backwards. “Wake up you’re going to have quite the fight on your hands.”

Peter sneered at him for a second but then disappeared back into the trees and Stiles suspected Peter realized Stiles was right. 

Stiles wiggled around as best as he could with his hands behind him. Seemed Peter left him propped up against the nematon which made Stiles’ skin crawl but there was little he could do about it now.

Unless…

The nematon made repeated appearances in his dreams all the time. It could have been a portent to this very moment but that his mother was there, too, and every time his dreams led him back to this place—it couldn’t be a coincidence, right? It had to be more than that.

Stiles’ head throbbed and he winced against the pain. Odds are he _was_ fighting a concussion. His doctor was going to be pissed at him.

If he, you know, actually made it out of this alive. 

Stiles started to feel around behind him, scraping at the bark on the nematon. Maybe he could dig something up or strip off something big enough to be used as a weapon. His fingers scabbed at the wood, trying to grasp something, anything. His hands slipped more than once as he grew more and more frustrated.

“Shit!” Stiles gasped as his hand caught on a jagged bit and tore through his skin. He could feel the blood well up behind him and run down his fingers. 

He knew the exact moment that it hit the nematon and seeped into its storied roots. Because he could _feel_ it. 

Stiles gasped and closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of the nematon surging into him. Through it he could sense the events that happened at it or because of it. The sacrifices, the tributes, Derek’s ill-fated first love, Jennifer more than once…

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles gasped. “He killed her. He murdered her, oh my god.”

The nematon seemed to understand and nod in agreement in his head. That Peter Hale killed someone in cold blood was hardly surprising but to actually know what it was like—to feel the fear and the pouring of her blood into the tree—it was all too much.

Stiles wrenched his hands away and sat up as much as he could. The tree reached out to him, trying to re-initiate contact.

“Not trying to escape, are you Stiles?” Peter asked, coming through the trees again.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Stiles replied. “Just curious to see where you keep disappearing to.”

“Oh, Stiles. You’re clearly your father’s son, aren’t you? Your dear, dear father,” Peter replied, his tone growing more menacing. “Keep that in mind if you want to remain your father’s son.”

Stiles frowned but kept quiet. He craned his neck to watch Peter walk around the nematon to check the ties on Derek and Cora who were still out cold. 

“So, uh. What’s in the bag?” Stiles dared to ask.

“Sure you want to know?” Stiles really didn’t like the glint Peter had in his eye. Reminded him too much of the front of a serial killer dvd. 

Peter picked up the sack and pulled it open as he walked to the nematon. He tipped it up and dumped out its content, letting them spill all over the flat surface.

Bones. 

And fur. 

Wolfsbane.

Stiles jerked back and let out a yell when he realized they weren’t just any bones—they were Laura’s.

His eyes met Peter’s and Stiles couldn’t hide his revulsion. “You’re fucking sick! You weren’t happy with just killing her, now you have to desecrate her bones? You asshole!”

Peter shrugged and looked nonchalant. “Potato, pohtahto, Stiles. Doesn’t matter, anyway. Not long now.”

Peter left Laura’s bones on the stump and walked back into the woods. Stiles was sure his father was being held in there and Peter was just biding his time until he could do whatever the hell it was he was planning.

Stiles flipped himself around awkwardly so he could face Derek and Cora. “Derek!” Stiles hissed. “Derek, wake up! Trouble! Alert! Mayday! Cora, hey! Cora!”

Nothing. Not even a twitch. Stiles leaned forward and let his head hit the side of the nematon.

“Ouch,” he muttered. Then he got the best worst idea he’d possibly ever had.

He swung himself around again and lined his body up. He didn’t have time to decide if this was a good idea or not cause it could probably possibly kill him if he wasn’t careful but there wasn’t time to be logical or anything.

He grit his teeth and threw himself sideways at the nematon so his head hit the place it was throbbing, where Peter already hit him twice. It stung like a motherfucker but nothing happened other than making him a little woozy.

Stiles panted through the pain and struggled to sit up again, then threw himself back down immediately before he could talk himself out of it.

Must have worked, though.

*****************

_”Mom! Please be the right place this time!” Stiles yelled._

_He stood on top of the nematon and cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled until he was hoarse._

_“Wawrzyniec, what are you doing here?”_

_Finally she appeared, but slower and paler than she’d been. Stiles jumped off the nematon and hugged her tightly._

_“Mom, I need to know what’s going on. I’m in trouble,” Stiles explained quickly._

_“I don’t know for sure, but I know you can stop it.”_

_Stiles wanted to break down in her arms and cry. He was so frustrated and upset with being in the dark, both literally and figuratively._

_“I don’t think I can, mom. I don’t know what’s going on or what I am or anything. And now Peter’s got dad and Derek and Derek’s sister Cora. Plus their other sister’s bones. I’m so scared, mom! I don’t know what to do here!” Stiles pleaded.  
 “Stiles, I believe in you. Because you’ve always done the right thing or, at least, done it for the right reasons. I know you’ll know what to do when the time comes. I wish I could be clearer but my time here has been extended too long and I don’t have as strong a connection with your world anymore.”_

_“How are you here?” Stiles asked._

_She reached up and ran her hand over Stiles’ cheek with a fond smile. “You keep me here, Wawrzyniec. You have been holding me here since you woke up. It was a miracle to see you while you were asleep but now it’s just an added bonus. You call me here with the force of your will. It’s stronger than you realize and that’s why Peter has you. Through you he can do whatever he’s planning. Because you’re not just a spark, Stiles. Just as an alpha’s power is passed from werewolf to werewolf, so is our power. But you don’t have all of yours yet.”_

_“Mom?”_

_“This is the last time you can call on me, love. Because it’s time for me to go. It’s a sad oxymoron that your power can draw me here but as soon as I pass mine on you’ll be unable to do that any longer.”_

_Stiles started to shake his head, but she touched his cheek again and silenced him with a whisper of a touch._

_“It’s time,” she said softly._

_“But what are we?”_

_“That’s the beauty, Wawrzyniec. You define yourself by how you use your power. There’s no word for that and if there was I’m sure you’d find a way to exceed it. Use your connection, darling.”_

_Stiles didn’t fully understand but he felt at peace, finally. He nodded and hugged his mother one more time. As he did he felt her hug him back tightly, and dig her nails into his back until it was almost painful._

_But then he felt a soft tug deep within his body and he swore that if he looked down he would see a cord between them, transferring a light._

_It lasted seconds but Stiles was supporting his mother by the end of it. He lowered her gently to the nematon and held her hand until she closed her eyes._

_She had a smile on her face and he faintly heard her whisper, “I love you.” And then she was gone._

_Stiles stood up and watched as she disappeared. She faded into nothing and left Stiles alone._

_But prepared._

_The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how he was going to become conscious again._

_“Maybe if I—“_

*****************

“—you can’t get away that easily, Stiles!” Peter was screaming when Stiles came to. He was crouched over Stiles with one hand in the air, preparing to hit him again.

Stiles jerked out of the way before he could make contact again.

“Jesus Christ, dude, I _told_ you I have a concussion!” Stiles mumbled groggily. 

“I don’t care. I only need you for a little while longer. You can tough it out until then, right?”

“Sure, why not? I love helping homicidal lunatics!”

“Ha, lunatics. You didn’t notice what phase the moon was in tonight, did you?” Peter asked.

Stiles looked up and grit his teeth against the pain throbbing in the side of his head. At first everything was black but then, right on cue, the clouds parted and there was a heavy full moon in the sky.

“How do you fuckers plan that shit?” Stiles mumbled.

“Talent. And look who else is awake!” Peter hauled Stiles to his feet and swung him around to see that Derek and Cora were both awake and _pissed_.

“Hey guys,” Stiles said weakly. Peter jerked him over to them and Stiles stumbled, nearly falling to his knees but Peter didn’t care. He dragged him through the dirt and then threw him down beside Derek and Cora.

“I’ll try not to puke on you,” Stiles mumbled as his head swam. He let his head fall to the ground and his face smushed into the dirt. He didn’t care, as long as the spinning would stop.

Derek leaned his tied feet out and nudged against Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles looked up and managed to focus his eyes on Derek’s face that was contorted in fury and sadness. Stiles gave him a small smile and mouthed, ‘it’s okay’, which did nothing to ease the worry on Derek’s face. Then Derek’s eyes were distracted by something going on behind Stiles so Stiles turned his head to watch.

Peter was setting something up on the nematon. Pulling long pieces of rope infused with wolfsbane out of a bag while wearing gloves, much the same that Derek used to wrap Laura’s body before he buried her. 

Peter pulled Cora and Derek over to the nematon and sat them down on it. Stiles could see that they were bound with a cord similar to what he pulled out of the bag. 

Peter tied one of Derek’s and Cora’s hands together, then some how rigged Laura’s bones in a bundle and tied them to Cora’s other hand. Cora was crying then, big, fat tears of rage and she was trying to growl from around her gag.

Peter picked Stiles up like a rag doll and plopped him down on the nematon beside Derek. He tied Derek’s free hand to Stiles’ and as soon as he turned to tie his own with Stiles’ spare Stiles laced his fingers through Derek’s and squeezed. Derek caught his eye and squeezed back, almost too tightly but Stiles didn’t care. It was enough to keep him grounded.

“You see, Stiles, I figured it all out thanks to you. I’ve been working on this process for a while now. Yes, I could easily have gone after Scott and tried for his power but Scott is tricky and he’s got that pesky pack watching his back all the time. Not to mention that if I went after a ‘true alpha’, “ Peter said with air quotes. “I’d be hunted down in no time by many of the more established packs. They all have an old fashioned sense of tradition they like to uphold. Wouldn’t want to get in their way just yet.”

“I thought I had it in the bag when I tried to have Derek taken by those inept peons I found. Should’ve known I couldn’t leave such a sensitive job to a bunch of omegas. But thankfully I did because they were massacred by you! What fun!”

Stiles let his mouth drop open and he stared at Peter blankly. “Are you kidding me? Wait, who am I thinking about? Of course you’re not.”

“I used to know your mother, did you know that? Back before the fire and when you were still a twinkle in her eye. I knew there was something about her but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Her flowers always grew a little too nicely, you know? Too bright and too big and full. Her herbs were always the freshest and most flavourful and even in the winter she could make something flourish out of season. She had a green thumb, she’d say, but I knew it was more. And then her son demolishes a warehouse along with three werewolves and I realized that _you_ were what I was missing.”

“Lucky me,” Stiles replied drily.

“Derek here almost spoiled the whole thing by leaving town but it just meant I had to bump up my plans a little. Took Cora a little early but here we are, so I guess it didn’t work out too badly,” Peter said with an evil smile.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Stiles spit out.

Peter’s smile turned into a frown. “Rich, coming from you.”

“You have no idea,” Stiles replied.

“Time to get this show on the road, anyway. I can hear the cavalry coming but they won’t make it here on time,” Peter said casually as he reached into the bag again and pulled out silver daggers.

Stiles’ head jerked up as he listened for the sound of someone coming to rescue them while keeping an eye on what Peter was doing. Derek seemed to be doing the same although he was definitely more preoccupied by the daggers.

For good reason, too.

Peter stabbed the first one through Cora’s hand, leaving the dagger embedded, and she screamed through her gag. Her blood soaked through onto Laura’s bones quickly and puddled beside her leg on the nematon. 

The next knife went between Derek and Cora’s hands. Cora screamed again but Derek tried to bite his back as much as he could. His hand tied to Stiles’ gripped tighter, as if he was trying to reassure Stiles or maybe try to be more pain than the dagger going—

Nope, that hurt like a sonofabitch. “Jesus Christ!” Stiles screamed. “You fucker!”

Peter grinned and then pulled out one more dagger and stabbed himself in the back of the hand so it sank down into Stiles’ palm. The he laid his free hand on the nematon and started laughing.

“Wait, wait!” Stiles yelled. “You haven’t explained what this is for! What are you doing?”

“The power of the alpha has passed through all of them. I’m taking it all back,” Peter crowed.

“How? Derek gave it up to save Cora who used it to heal. He didn’t pass the power onto her, just sacrificed it!” Stiles argued.

“That’s where you come into play Stiles. You are a conduit for all of that power that’s just floating in everyone’s being, whether or not they know it. Magic and power leave a trace and that trace is all I need to become the alpha again. _Then_ I can go after Scott.”

Stiles’ head was swimming. He was overwhelmed with sensation. The blood was dripping out of his hands quicker than he thought it would and the loss wasn’t helping his already throbbing head. He was trying to understand exactly what Peter was saying and he could feel the nematon under him, pulsing from the blood. 

But it was angry and this kind of offering wasn’t what it wanted. What it lived on. It was growing stronger under him and Stiles could feel it like a barrier in his body, creating a dam in him.

There was something else, though. Something deep in Stiles’ brain struggling to get free. Alpha power. Passed on. Power being passed on.

“Stiles!” Somewhere deep in the woods someone was calling his name. Someone was coming. 

But they’d be too late.

_Just as an alpha’s power is passed from werewolf to werewolf, so is our power. But you don’t have all of yours yet._

But he had it now. He had it all. He had it and the alpha power in him, trying to get out of him. 

“Do you feel it yet?” Stiles asked lowly, turning to Peter. 

Nothing hurt now. He felt a buzzing all over. He felt everything under his feet coming to life and the birds and bugs and animals that knew what was good for them scurry away from him. He could feel everything back building within him.

Peter looked down at Stiles slowly, and dawning passed over his face.

Too late.

Stiles reached in and pulled the power free, broke the dam. It was like lightning in his eyes and thunder in his ears, flowing out of him like a raging river and it sucked Peter under like a tiny raft, tossed on the rocks.

Peter screamed and grabbed at his head, pulling at his hair and falling to the ground. He pulled Stiles with him because of their linked hands and Stiles fell on top of him. Stiles looked at the dagger connecting their hands and flicked his eyes up. It wrenched out of their joined hands and flew into the brush. Stiles used his bleeding hand and covered Peter’s eyes almost gently and _willed_ the lighting Stiles could feel into his brain. Peter jerked under him and his own blood ran out of his ears. 

Stiles didn’t know how long this went on until he felt a tug, a physical one, and looked over his shoulder to see Derek trying to pull him off. Stiles looked down and realized what he was doing. He scrabbled off Peter’s body and backwards into Derek’s legs. Derek leaned down and wrapped his arm around Stiles’ body and held him while he shook.

*****************

“Stiles?”

Hours later everyone was back at the Stilinski household. 

John was, indeed, being held in the woods where Peter kept disappearing to but was found unharmed, if more than a little pissed. Melissa had been called, as well, to patch wounds.

It was almost sunrise but Stiles felt like he’d just woken up from a day-long sleep. He was wired and still shaking slightly. Deaton was called earlier and explained it could continue for a few days. The kind of power Stiles had channeled was something he couldn’t comprehend but he was excited to study.

So at least _one_ person was jazzed about Stiles’ newfound abilities.

“Come in,” Stiles called. He disappeared to get changed earlier but then fell into his thoughts and didn’t realize how much time passed.

Scott walked in and closed the door behind him.

“How’s it going, dude?”

“Y’know, been better,” Stiles replied with a shrug. Scott crossed the room and pulled him into a tight bear hug until Stiles had to tap out to breathe. 

“Stiles, dude.”

“I know, man.”

“How?”

Stiles shook his head. “Something with the coma and… my mom.”

“Your mom?”

“She was there, in my dreams. And then tonight she saved me. Saved us.”

“How?”

“She sacrificed herself,” Stiles explained simply. He knew Scott didn’t understand but Stiles didn’t really either so Scott’s smile and nod was enough.

“You know,” Scott started. “Derek was really worried about you.”

“I was there.”

“No, I mean before all this went down. You’re why he came back. He heard that Cora was taken and he was going to plot a way to get her back but as soon as he heard you were kidnapped as well is when he came back to Beacon Hills.”

“We’re friends. Or were. I mean, we ended things on weird terms,” Stiles replied.

“Weirder than tonight?”

“Yeah, no.”

“He didn’t want to leave to begin with, right?”

“I suppose not.”

“So don’t let him leave now. Plus I’m still going to be in school. I can’t be around to make sure you don’t get yourself into trouble and Isaac sure as hell won’t be able to handle you,” Scott only half-teased.

“Excuse me? _You_ keep _me_ out of trouble?”

“Do you remember how this whole werewolf adventure started?”

Stiles grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Want to go back downstairs? You ready for that?”

“Yeah, I just needed a few minutes,” Stiles explained.

“Understandable. I’ll be there when you’re ready,” Scott said as he stood up.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think this is a bad thing? That I could go dark?” Stiles asked quietly. “You saw what I did to Peter and at the war-“

“Stiles, no. What happened tonight and at the warehouse was self-defense. And beyond that you were saving other people at the same time. You didn’t hurt anyone who wasn’t threatening you, did you? You didn’t hurt Derek, you didn’t hurt Cora. If anything you’re more like a smart weapon or something. You know, in a good, self-aware way.”

Stiles blinked but he was picking up what Scott was putting down. “Gotcha.”

“See you in a few,” Scott said as he left and closed the door behind him. Stiles looked down and realized he still hadn’t changed so he got up and pulled his shirts off as he did and looked at himself in the mirror. 

He was bruised and scratched here and there. He could feel his face swelling and Melissa instructed that someone had to wake him up every hour.

If he felt he could ever sleep again, that is.

There was another knock on the door and Stiles rolled his eyes, then winced because it hurt. “Come in, Scott.”

The door opened. “Not Scott but can I still come in?”

Stiles spun around, a little too quick and wobbled but Derek crossed the room and steadied him before Stiles could register he was unbalanced.

“Thanks,” Stiles said quietly.

“Pretty sure I should be saying that,” Derek replied. He ran his hands down Stiles’ bare arms and gently turned his palms over. The stabs were stitched and bandaged. By some miracle Peter hadn’t hit anything vital that would cause permanent damage but it was going to hurt like a bitch.

“Good thing I’m here, huh?” Derek asked softly as he began taking some of the pain. Stiles didn’t realize how much they hurt until he felt the relief and he almost sagged against Derek from it.

“Ohmigod,” Stiles mumbled. “That’s too good.”

“Come on.” Derek led Stiles over to his bed and they sank down on it together. Stiles gave up and leaned fully against Derek, taking comfort in his solid presence.

“How’s the head?”

“Could be better,” Stiles replied. “But if a car crash and coma didn’t kill me, your crazy uncle can’t!”

“Good,” Derek replied. 

“But I’m sorry, for what it’s worth,” Stiles continued.

Derek furrowed his brow. “For what?”

“Killing him? I mean, he _was_ a murdering prick and we’ve done it before and he’s done terrible things and all that but he was still your family member and I still murdered him right back, you know?”

“Stiles,” Derek said as he turned to look him in the eye. “Even if he was the very last person on this earth, let alone in my family, and you killed him and left me all alone I’d still be okay with it, all right? He already took so much from me and too many other people. You saved Cora and me. Not to mention yourself and your dad. I think that justifies it.”

“I guess… I just.” Stiles pressed his lips together as he searched for the right way to say what he wanted to. “Deaton talked about the darkness two years ago when all this started, you know? And killing someone is about as dark as it gets. Killing them with this… this _power_ I have in me is terrifying. I could feel the nematon, Derek, and it was happy with what I did.” Stiles looked down and bit his lip, trying to fight against tears that pricked at his eyes.

“I don’t want to go dark side, is what I’m saying,” Stiles finally said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone!”

“Stiles, I promise you, that is the last thing you will do. I know because I know _you_.”

“I bet a lot of evil people get told that,” Stiles mumbled. Derek shook his head and started taking the bandages off one of Stiles hands. “Hey, what are you doing? Melissa just did those!”

“I want to try something, okay?” Derek asked. “Trust me?”

Stiles nodded. Derek exposed Stiles’ stitched palm and then showed Stiles his own palm that still had a nasty cut on it. 

“Silver,” Derek explained to Stiles’ unasked question. Then he pressed their palms together. Derek closed his eyes and Stiles could feel Derek taking his pain again.

But this time it was a little different. He also felt something within himself stretching, as if to reach out and touch Derek. Stiles gave what felt like an invisible lock a nudge and then he felt himself returning Derek’s energy. He almost giggled because it felt like a tickle, as if they were playing with each other. 

Stiles closed his eyes, too, and without knowing what else to call it he would say that he was seeing Derek’s healing energy in his mind. It was golden with black edges where it drew the pain away. Stiles’ energy was white and pure and it wound its way around Derek’s gold in his mind. 

Stiles isn’t sure how much time passed but the sun was finally peeking over the horizon when he opened his eyes again. Derek was smiling back at him, wide and free. He let Stiles’ hand go and held up his own.

The cut was gone.

Stiles looked down at his hand and sure enough, his hand was healed, too. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathed.

“That’s how I know, Stiles,” Derek said. “That connection at the nematon wasn’t just one way. I could feel what was going on through you, too. I felt it when you zapped Peter and when you pulled yourself back.”

“Because of you,” Stiles said. “You pulled me back. Joint effort.”

“Guess so,” Derek said with a smile.

“Don’t leave again?”

“Don’t think your dad would let me now. You’re a trouble starter all on your own now, he’s already talking about keeping you safe and protection spells,” Derek said.

Stiles rolled his eyes, then winced, then laughed. “Think we can do anything about my head?”

“That one’s too easy, Stiles, come on!”

“I’m being serious he-“ Stiles was cut off by Derek leaning in and covering his mouth with his own.

Stiles hummed appreciatively into Derek’s mouth and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck. Derek’s hands trailed up and down Stiles’ bare back and torso, his fingers dragging the pain out of every bruise and scratch he found along the way. 

Stiles couldn’t say for sure but he thought he could feel Derek leaching the pain through his lips, too, as they worked softly over Stiles’ lips, cheek and temple.

So that’s pretty damn cool.

At some point Stiles was pretty sure he heard his bedroom door open for a second, then close and his dad call down the stairs, “we don’t have to worry about them for a while!” but things were kind of perfect enough that he might have been dreaming.

*****************

John accepted Derek back as Stiles’ tutor and aide with some added caveats. Mostly involving reporting to John as soon as there were any conceivable threats of a supernatural nature. Which Stiles gave his own counter-conditions that he was going to be involved in said situations because he could help with his new powers. His mom wanted him to. But he was going to extra vigilant and open with his father about what was going on.

John choked up when Stiles explained about his mother and he believed without hesitation. Although he grumbled when Stiles explained his mother approved of Derek.

Once Stiles was fully recovered from Peter’s attack and could work on his continued physio on his own Derek was able to cut back to just tutoring and find his own thing to focus on.  
 Derek bought a fixer-upper in town and Isaac’s moved in with him again. The move was facilitated by Derek’s acceptance into Scott’s pack. He was quickly named Scott’s second, which only seemed right since Derek could help Isaac patrol and keep an eye on Stiles who was training to be the pack’s emissary, of sorts. 

John was insistent on Stiles at least _looking_ at colleges, but Stiles was content for the moment, working on his power and thinking about a part-time job once the rest of the pack came home for the summer. He still tired easily and his legs bothered him during colder weather.

One afternoon, six months after the showdown with Peter, Stiles was outside the vet clinic after training with Deaton, enjoying the brisk winter air while he waited for Derek to show up. When he did Stiles looked at the clock on his phone and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s up?” Stiles asked as he got into Derek’s car. “You’re early.”

“Wanted to show you something,” Derek replied with a cryptic smile.

“Ooh, show and tell with Derek Hale, I’m beside myself with anticipation. What is it?”

Derek rolled his eyes as he pulled out of the parking lot. “That would be more tell than show. And you’re the one with visions and shit, you tell me.”

“Is it... a pony?” Stiles asked.

“A pony?”

“Hey, at least I didn’t go immediately to faerie infestation or chupacabra,” Stiles said with a shrug, then he whipped around in his seat with a serious expression. “It’s not a faerie infestation or a chupacabra, is it?”

“No,” Derek replied drily. For the rest of the ride they played a very ... Stiles-style game of 20 questions.

“So it _is_ bigger than a breadbox,” Stiles said as he looked up at the new Hale house once they pulled into the driveway.

“No, but I’ll shove you into one,” Derek mumbled as they got out of the car but Stiles ignored him. Derek led him into the house and up the stairs to the bedrooms, where Stiles had yet to see since Derek bought the house five months earlier. Derek enjoyed making progress on the house and unveiling it for people, proud of his accomplishments. Turns out he had a flare for home improvement.

“Uncharted territory, I like it,” Stiles whistled. Derek guided Stiles to the left with a light hand on his waist and showed him Isaac’s room. It was a warm gray with a blonde hardwood floor, gorgeous crown moulding and a small half bath. Isaac had a huge bed, a large desk for his studies and a huge flatscreen TV, all for himself. Isaac clearly had already made himself at home but he was neat and added his own touches to the room, obviously comfortable in what was now his own home.

The next room was a spare, decorated in bright yellows and creams. Then a bathroom with a deep tub Stiles remembered Derek debating over for a good month. 

The door to the room on the far right was closed and Derek made Stiles close his eyes before he’d open it. 

Stiles let Derek lead him inside carefully and he figured he was in the middle of the room before Derek said he could look. 

The room was bright and warm and _vibrant_. The floor was a chocolate hardwood, the bed was a hand-built raised platform. The walls were a light cream with one accent wall of wide stripes in varying green colours. The area rug under the bed looked plush enough for Stiles to want to bury his toes in it to see if it was a luxurious as it appeared.

“Wow,” Stiles breathed as he took it all in. “This is yours, I take it?”

Derek paused for a second, then nodded. He opened a large door to the right of the room and revealed his closet, full of a lot of monochromatic looks with some pops of colour. It was neat and organized and it turned out Derek actually had quite a few pairs of shoes. Stiles grinned and shut it as Derek crossed the room and opened another door.

This one was to the huge ensuite with the jetted tub and large standup shower that had tons of directable shower heads. Stiles _needed_ to be in that bathtub immediately.

“This,” Stiles began when he walked out. “Is _amazing_. I can’t believe the work you’ve done here. And I don’t mean this in a bad way but I can’t believe how _incredible_ the work _is_.”

Derek smiled broadly, clearly taking the compliment as Stiles intended. “There’s one more door,” he said.

Stiles looked around and saw another door by the one for the bathroom. He cocked his head questioningly but Derek just nodded.

Stiles frowned and opened it, stepped inside. It was dark so he fumbled for a light switch. When the light came on, he blinked from surprise. 

It was another closet, this one with only one thing hanging in it.

“That’s my hoodie,” Stiles said dumbly. “I thought I lost that a couple months ago.”

“You didn’t. I took it.”

“You took it?” Stiles repeated, confused.

“Well, I didn’t so much take it as hang it up in its proper place.”

Stiles turned around to look up at Derek questioningly. “I don’t understand.”

“Think about it Stiles,” Derek said as he rolled his eyes.

“You... want me to move in here with you?”

“I want you to move into this _room_ with me,” Derek corrected. “I mean, the rest of the house, too, but we’ll share this one.”

“And the bed?” Stiles asked with a grin slowly creeping across his face.

“And the bed,” Derek agreed, leaning in to press a soft kiss against Stiles’ mouth. When he pulled back he tugged Stiles out of the closet, closing the door behind them. “I want to start on the basement next.”

“Why not the ground floor?” 

“I figure you’ll need somewhere to practice your skills, right? I was thinking a reinforced room, maybe with a lot of fireproofing and a sparring area. A big space with lots of room for herbs and different strains of wolfsbane--”

“A Magic Box!” Stiles cut in.

“What?” Derek asked, now the one confused. 

Stiles waved his hand with a grin. “It’s a Buffy thing. But that sounds like one of the best things I’ve heard in a while.” Stiles stepped close to Derek and put a hand over his heart and looked into his eyes steadily. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Derek swallowed hard. “I’m glad. Happy.”

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered. 

They kissed, slow and warm and so deeply that Stiles felt like he was melting into Derek’s arms. When they parted naturally Stiles felt sated, heavy and sleepy. Safe. Humming instead of buzzing.

“Want to try out the bed?” Stiles asked huskily. Derek glanced at the bed, then back at Stiles with a grin. “For a nap?”

“Tease,” Derek grumbled but he followed Stiles when he tugged him over to the king sized bed.

They laid out on top of the covers and Stiles could tell Derek went to a lot of trouble to pick out just the right mattress for them. Damn perfect werewolf senses mixed with a supernatural aptitude for home improvement.

“This is _glorious_ ,” Stiles moaned as he snuggled into the nest of pillows that he knew would quickly end up scattered all about the room normally. He leaned against Derek and closed his eyes right away, sleep quickly approaching.

“Hey,” Stiles said, his eyes popping open and looking up at Derek.

“It’s okay, I’ll be here when you wake up,” Derek assured.

“Actually I just didn’t want to fall asleep alone,” Stiles said quietly. Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer and nodded.

“You got it.”


End file.
